


Enrapture

by LetalisGladio



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Black Hat being Black Hat, Blood and Gore, Brief origin story, Demonic Contracts, Demonic Possession, Demons, Eventual Smut, Flug has a monster face, Hallucinations, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Slow Burn, Violence, also there's a gala, bc there's only four characters, but the big stuff happens towards the end, help me out here, literally inspired by a bunch of art and like three songs, or a totally normal face, probably more than canon-typical violence, so i have no clue how long it'll be, so i wanted to address both, tags to be added because i randomly started writing this so idk, where Dementia and Flug conspire to get BH jealous af, yall are either like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 22:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11114307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetalisGladio/pseuds/LetalisGladio
Summary: Dr. Flug is an infamous weapons engineer who has worked for heroes and villains alike. However, when he falls into a contract with Black Hat, he realizes his skill may have made him too infamous. Especially if it has managed to catch the eye of a weapon dealing demon that is known for playing with his prey.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I got sucked into this hellhole by some amazing things on tumblr and now all must suffer. Also had a burning itch to write these two because damn, I ship it hARD. I also wanted to experiment with a darker story. (doesn't mean there won't be fluff, though). So, I hope you enjoy.

Inventing was the way he looked at the world. Flug didn’t have to think too hard on  _ what  _ he was inventing, just how it was going to turn out, and then it would be in his hands. At first, he lent this skill to heroes. He helped them protect the innocent, and, for the meager amount of time it lasted, he invented with purpose.

 

But then he continuously got shuffled around, and each hero was more narcissistic than the last. They would avoid him for days on end or ask for absurdities in a span of time that was humanly impossible. Once inventions were done, they would smirk and test its weight, pat him on the shoulder and say, “Good job, doctor. This’ll save a lot of lives.”

 

Of course, whenever something went wrong, it was disastrous. Heroes would come back with a snarl on their faces and scorch marks on their arms, chewing him out for their own failures (Flug realized quickly that near all of these failures were not due to malfunction, but to user error). He’d been harassed, mocked, and even kicked out of labs whenever superheroes met up in large groups. His reputation preceded him; despite being an amazing engineer who could invent weapons out of air and fantasy, his malfunctions were too dangerous. A flop. “Dr. Fly-Away”, a German hero said once when he introduced himself, stating he was not all there and his high-reaching inventions demonstrated such.

 

His increasingly bad reputation confused him, as heroes would often refuse to credit his designs, for it was safer if he wasn’t linked to such destructive inventions, making it easy for villains to track him down. And yet, whispers would follow him down halls, heroes and sidekicks and weapons engineers and police and the voices that were ever-present in the back of his mind, all of them calling him disastrous, a fuck-up, a danger to the peace. Nobody wanted him, yet they were all saying the same thing: “Thank God he’s on our side.”

 

The last time he worked for a hero, he felt wanted again. He felt that same purpose he had at the beginning.

 

She was a fuck-up too, in the minds of the higher-ranking heroes. Valerie Osman, or, as she called herself, Varulara. A simple fifteen year old fighting to keep the peace and inspire other kids like her. Flug found it refreshing.

 

She payed very little in comparison to some of other jobs he had taken. Her payment was in companionship and a roof over his head, along with a small sum of money. She wasn’t looking for much, just simple yet powerful gadgets to help further her superhero career, and a “legal guardian” to help her keep her parents’ old house. Flug later found out they were older heroes killed by a villain. When he had asked Valerie if she wanted revenge, she shrugged, and that was that.

 

The few months he spent with her were a break from the crushing anxiety that had been threatening to swallow him whole. The house was small, but on an isolated plot of land back in the woods outside the city. He was allowed to walk to clear his head, and would spend warm afternoons inventing and building outside. On many occasions, he would help Valerie haul out firewood and the two would roast marshmallows and tell villain stories. All was well, and Flug was able to get a handle on what had been a shaky mental state. No one in the woods whispered to him about being a failure. Valerie gave him a chance to test every weapon, every gadget or gizmo before she would set out. She would come back with a grin and a hug, and thank him for his work.

 

Then, disaster struck. He had came back to the house after a brief grocery run to find it silent; an odd thing, considering his charge’s knack for listening to heavy metal on full volume. He had walked into the kitchen, only to find Valerie’s body skewered on a pipe that had been ripped from the house’s very moulding. Next to her stood the villain that had killed her parents, along with a handful of henchmen. The last thing Flug had seen before being carted away was the most recent invention he had made--a detection-protection device, as Valerie had jokingly dubbed it. It was supposed to detect unwanted presences and provide an instant force field. By the looks of Valerie’s singed arm, the device had malfunctioned horribly.

 

That had been the last thing he had invented for a hero before being swapped between villains. It wasn’t too much different from working for heroes; there was more begging for your life and less restrictions on the danger scale of an invention. His paychecks were either nothing but being allowed to continue to live, or monstrously huge amounts of cash that even the wealthiest heroes would have gawked at. Despite the constant adrenaline rush that came from nearly dying of a disappointed boss, Flug found these jobs more fun. He was allowed more creative freedom when it came to getting the job done, he had suitable test subjects, infinite access. He needed a reactor core for the Terraformer he was working on? His boss merely stole one from a nuclear facility off the coast of the Dominican Republic. As long as Flug ignored the thoughts of the lives he was ruining, he got jobs done. Some of the smarter villains actually praised him (these were the ones who payed him in piles of cash) and took time to listen to his instructions. Yes, he still got blamed when things went wrong, but not nearly as much, and there were no guilt trips on the possibility of civilian casualty. He was starting to slip into a shaky comfort; his anxiety still pinged him now and again, but it was never as serious. Until he got hired into the big wigs.

 

These villains expected perfection. It was a constant arms race, each one paying to one up the other, and Flug would find himself working for two competing villains at the same time. He reaped the rewards, but the constant stream of death threats and screamed lectures quickly derailed any thought of normalcy. He was in a constant state of fevered malnourishment as he tried to keep up with the demand. And at the top of it all, his employers were having him compete with the ghost called Black Hat.

 

Nobody knew who he was, save the highest echelons of villain society. There were no pictures, no descriptions, nothing. The only thing Flug knew about him was that he ran Black Hat Incorporated, a weapon supplier to villains that were at the top of the market and had world-ending abilities. Oh, and that apparently, when ranked (he’d seen this on a fellow labmate’s tablet), had the highest net gross on the planet when it came to villainy. He’d been shocked to see his name was not far behind.

 

Maybe that was why he was finding himself in his current situation. Breathing hitched, he pressed his back against the cool metal of his desk in the lab of his current employer, clutching an ion cannon to his chest. His heart was jackhammering, its  _ thump thump _ falling into rhythm with the sound of laser fire outside the bolted double doors. There had been what felt like a quake earlier that morning, a brief silence, then the screaming of sirens. Someone shouted “terf war!” and there as a mad scramble for weapons as the building shook.

 

When villains had these territorial disputes, Flug had found that it usually was the result of an aspiring wrongdoer challenging a scoundrel of similar rank for a better standing. The current villain he was working for was on decent terms with other powerful villains, and was so high on the ladder there was really one other option, considering the mad panic that had enveloped the lab and the weaponry price dispute their benefactor had been in earlier that week.

 

Black Hat Inc. was knocking at the door.

 

All of the other engineers had either fled or bravely taken their inventions into the fray, leaving Flug where he currently was. His knees felt weak, and he gripped the ion cannon closer, like a child holding a teddy bear. He had never been in actual combat, and he felt pinned in place, anything and everything that could go wrong flashing through his head. He whimpered when there was a loud  _ thud  _ against the lab doors, pulling his goggles down in an attempt to squash the tears. He tried to control his breathing, using techniques a therapist from long ago had taught him, and gingerly peeked over the edge of his desk at the door. There was an eerie silence, punctuated by red flashes of quiet klaxons. Nothing moved in the agonizing minutes Flug watched the door, and he hesitantly creeped out from his hiding spot. Unlatching the door, he carefully pushed it open and poked is head out into the hall, eyes widening in horror. 

 

The once-elegant wallpaper was dripping crimson, murals of red painted by grasping hands. The ceiling was stained with intermittent spurts of blood, and Flug had to tiptoe over the corpses strewn across the floor. He braved a look at one to see it was actually two lab assistants. They’d recently started a relationship despite the perils of being in love while working for a villain, and even hosted a dorm party last week that Flug had reluctantly gone to and found rather fun. They were curled in on one another, bones sticking out at odd places, the jagged cuts across their throats a far cry from the at-ease smiles they had worn at their party. 

 

Flug winced when something cracked underfoot. He shook it off his bloodied Converse, watching shards of glass fall to the floor, ruby glints dancing off the walls as they caught the light. Flug took a deep breath as bile threatened to overtake his throat, and moved forward, toeing aside bodies and carnage as he went. 

 

He had reached the main hall without incident, his heart pounding in his ears. A great feeling of unease had settled over him, the hairs on his neck pricked upwards due to the sense of wrongness. He sucked in a deep breath and opened the door a crack. Flug couldn’t see much, but what he did see made his blood run cold.

 

His employer was on his knees, the battle armor that Flug had made for him last month dented and ripped. He was saying something, maybe begging or bantering or--

 

The silhouette in front of him snapped its fingers and Flug’s employer reeled, a jet of blood escaping the back of his head like a bullet had shredded it. With a gurgle, the villain collapsed backwards, the shadowy figure chortling as it dug its heel into the chestpiece of the armor. Flug could hear the creak as hyperalloids buckled under the figure’s foot. “Not bad, sir. Not bad at all. Whoever created this, however, clearly has no understanding of black magic.”

 

Flug made a noise of--well, he told himself it was disbelief but it was probably more fearful than anything-- and the figure’s head snapped up. Belatedly, Flug realized it was wearing a tall top hat. He began backpedaling down the hall, his mind racing.  _ Oh, God, that’s  _ Black Hat _ , isn’t it? Shit, shit, shi-- _

 

His foot connected with something and he fell backwards, a yelp escaping his lips. His butt connected with the floor, and he could already feel cooling blood soaking through his jeans. Fumbling with the ion cannon, he shakily aimed it at the door, the weapon jittering as he tried to fit the expensive mahogany slabs within its cross-hairs. There was a moment of just his breathing before the laughter started. It bounced off the walls, shook him to his very core. Flug squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breath. The cannon trembled and was then ripped from his grasp. His eyes flew open, but nothing was in the hall with him.

 

“How cute. Human, you wouldn’t happen to work for Jorund, would you?” a gravely voice asked, dripping with the promise of cruelty. Instead of answering, Flug panted as he whipped his head around, looking for the source of the noise. There as an annoyed growl. Flug swore he felt his bones reverberate. “Tick tock. Did you work for that fool or not?”

 

“Y-yes,” Flug whispered, a sudden, intense fear gripping him like a vice. He crawled backwards, away from where he saw his employer get killed kept backing up until his back hit something. He reached back, thinking that he’d ran into a table, his hand grasping blindly for an edge to haul himself up onto his feet. His hand instead met something warm and squishy. Flug went dead still, his breaths coming out in little pants.

 

“See, that wasn’t too hard.” The voice was no longer bouncing, and came from directly behind him. It had a slight lilt, an accent that Flug couldn’t identify. Distinguished, definitely. Distinguished and dangerous. “Now, you wouldn’t happen to know a Dr. Flug, would you?”

 

“Depends,” Flug said, trying to force a note of cockiness into his voice. If this guy knew who he was, then it had something to do with that weapons listing, as he had previously thought. “Why?”

 

There was a snort, and Flug nearly screeched when a weight landed on his shoulders. He could see long claws flex out of the corner of his eye, and they were very,  _ very  _ sharp. “ _ Tsk _ . My dear doctor, you could at least try not to immediately oust yourself when a dangerous intruder asks for you.”

 

“R-right.” Flug swallowed when he felt the point of those claws lightly dig into his shoulder. Tears welled up behind his goggles. “Am I going to die?”

 

The hand lifted from his right shoulder and the villain leaned more of his weight onto his other. Flug imagined that he was checking his claws like they were freshly painted. “Hmm. That's up to you, doctor. I have a proposition.”

 

“Normally, when someone gives me a business proposal, I know who is making it.” There was a moment of silence, and Flug feared that he had overstepped. After all, if he was right and this was the infamous Black Hat, nobody besides his most trustworthy buyers saw him and lived. But then the other hand left his shoulder and there was a click of heels as the figure swirled in front of him, crouching so they were of similar height. The bile from earlier threatened to reappear.

 

What Flug was looking at was not natural. An immaculate suit despite the carnage its wearer had caused, a white dress shirt under a deep crimson vest and flattering slacks. Despite the suit’s cleanliness, the villain’s face was a deep black and smooth, like the skin of a deep sea beast. His knife-filled grin was contoured by blood, and his slit eye studied Flug like a cat stalking his prey. The villain’s monocle shined in the red light of the emergency klaxons before being shadowed by the brim of his hat. “Y-you’re Black Hat, aren’t you?”

 

“Very good,” Black Hat said softly, cocking his head and regarding Flug from a new angle. He shuddered when a pointed tongue escaped Black Hat’s fangs, and suddenly he felt more like a three course meal rather than simple prey. “Now that you know who I am, I believe I may state my proposition, yes?”

 

Flug nodded mutely, jumping when Black Hat leaned forward, clawed hand resting on Flug’s abdomen as this creature balanced himself above Flug. “I want you to work for me.”

 

“Do I have a choice?” Black Hat feigned an expression of indifference and sat back on his heels. He shrugged.

 

“If you’d like to die, yes. That can be arranged.” Flug watched as Black Hat flexed his claws, the spot on his abdomen insanely warm. Something felt vaguely familiar about this situation, but he’d never experienced anything remotely like this before. Terrifying monster, overwhelming fear, a business proposition based on his life. No way.

 

“I need your answer, doctor.” Sirens rang in the distance, but all Flug could focus on was the slit pupil watching him.

 

“Terms of contract,” he said without thinking. Why would he want to work for this monster? This wasn’t a normal stint, where a villain was human, made human mistakes, got bored and threw him to the highest bidder. This was something else, for one. And two, he’d never asked for a contract like that, never so automatically or so confidently. He normally begrudgingly took offers, only out of a need for the next paycheck to get him on for a couple of months. 

 

Flug dropped his gaze to Black Hat’s claws, which were sitting in his lap. They twitched in excitement. Flug wished he still had his ion cannon.

 

A smug smile stretched across Black Hat’s face. “You will work for me for as long as I deem necessary, and will make anything I need in my quest towards domination of the black market and the world. You will serve as my top engineer and only  _ my  _ top engineer, and ask for permission should you want to do something outside the realm of necessity. In return, all living expenses will be covered, including shelter, food, and clothing, as well as a handsome paycheck that is at least equivalent to other top weapons engineers in the business. Do we have a deal?”   
  


His hand outstretched, waiting for Flug’s. The doctor went to meet it when he was  _ tsk _ ed. “No gloves.”

 

Flug pulled off his gloves, and, with shaky hands, shook on it. “Don’t we need it in writing? Like, I need to sign something?”

 

“Oh no, this will do,” Black Hat said with a dark chuckle. His claws suddenly extended, digging into Flug’s wrist. 

 

“Ow! What--!” Flug watched in horrified bemusement as Black Hat, who was maintaining eye contact, slowly brought his bloodied claws up to his mouth and made a show of lapping up the blood. 

 

“I believe we have a deal. We’d best be going if we don’t want to be caught by the police.” The sirens were loud enough to be right outside, and Flug looked away. His stomach roiled, his wrist bleeding liquid fire. He covered it with his glove before squeezing it, hoping the bleeding would stop.

 

“Of course. How are we going to get out of here though? I mean, you’re kinda obvious. No offense,” he said quickly. Black Hat laughed, looking downright devious. Flug scuttled backwards as the villain stalked forward. 

 

“By walking through the front door. I do hope you're up to date on any blood medication, doctor. Having another person in your body tends to drive up the pressure.” He lunged, Flug screamed, then the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Flug is a plane in German. Dr. Flug's shirt has a plane on it. Connections~~
> 
> Another fun fact: I really like comments and appreciate them with all my heart


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty basic, sets up for next chapter. Warning for a mild panic attack.
> 
> Also, it's been three hours and holy fuck thank y'all for all this positive feedback :D

Flug awoke to a headache. And a body ache. Actually, everything ached. It was a bone deep pain that would not go away. He was running feverishly hot; his face burned, his hands felt clammy, and whatever he was cocooned in wasn’t helping.

 

He blinked, blearily trying to look around. His neck protested profusely, and he plopped his head down on...what kind of pillow was that?

 

Now he really did try to sit up, memories rushing in as the floodgates spilled. The blood. The carnage. Oh God, he’d met _the_ Black Hat. And he’d agreed to work for him!

 

Flug looked around. This certainly wasn’t his old employer’s mansion; Thaddeus Jorund was a man of cool colors and simplicity, despite his wealth. Everything had been small and somewhat humble, save his trophy room, the only grandeur his old employer had allowed.

 

The room he was in could’ve held three of those trophy rooms, plus the trophies, and still be more grand. A vaulted ceiling arched above his head, decorated with golden moulding and swirling designs. Two expensive looking glass chandeliers rocked gently in an unseen wind, casting eerie shadows on the room below. There was a fireplace at Flug’s back, crackling warmly despite the foreboding atmosphere. Oddities were tucked away on shelves; models of deathrays and strange mechanimals, a few books that seemed to be bound by human bones, a little plushie of what Flug thought might have been Cthulhu. A large portrait of Black Hat stared down at him from above the fireplace, its eyes watching him. Just the thought made his skin crawl.

 

He glanced down at the pillow he’d been sleeping on. It was deep red with golden embroidery, the initials “B.H.” sewn in curly letters in the center. Flug snorted in exasperation. The legendary Black Hat seemed to be quite the megalomaniac.

 

Flug’s gaze traveled from the pillow to his nearby hand. It was the one Black Hat had cut, only now it was wrapped tightly in pristine bandages. He touched the white gauze; it was hastily done, like the person doing it had never wrapped bandages before.

 

He then realized he was no longer wearing his lab coat. Instead, he was in a plush bathrobe, the expensive fabric tickling old scars from various failed inventions. Flug squished his legs together--the robe was the only thing he had on. Someone had undressed him, and he’d been a helpless, unconscious sack of meat when it happened.

 

Flug’s breathing became short and the room spun. What had he gotten himself into? He clutched at the sleeves of the robe as tears welled up in his eyes, rolling down his cheek with nothing to stop them. His goggles were gone too.

 

He began to hiccup, then sob quietly. An overwhelming wave of panic washed over him and he curled up on the lavish couch he had been left on, tears staining his face and sobs racking his body. It as too much, too much. He was helpless, a plaything, now he was getting the life squeezed out of him, the walls were closing in, he couldn’t breathe--

 

A door opened and shut, making Flug look wildly over his shoulder at the blurry figure of Black Hat. He was wearing something black now, no white shirt, but tears obscured Flug’s vision.

 

“Doctor?” Was it just him, or did Black Hat sound uncomfortable. The thought of making someone who was probably in total control all the time uneasy calmed him down slightly. "Everything alright?"

 

“M-may I have a glass of w-w-water, please?” Flug hiccuped and tried not to let snot and tears run down his face. There was an irritated growl and the snap of fingers, the noise making Flug jump. Something was floating in front of his face, and he rubbed at his eyes. An exquisite goblet was hovering in the air, full of what Flug hoped to be water. Ignoring the scientific impossibility, he grabbed it and began to chug it down.

 

“Flug! Slowly, you’re in no state to be puking all over my Kashan carpet, you hear me? One of a kind! Baga gave it to me himself.” Black Hat sat across from him in a high-backed chair, one leg crossing over the other.

 

Flug complied, sipping at the water as the name ran through his head. When it finally registered, he nearly choked anyway. “Isn’t that a god? How…?”

 

Black Hat smirked wickedly, fangs on full display. “Come on, now. You can’t have possibly gone through possession and still think I’m human.”

 

“Possession? Like in _The Exorcist_?” Flug asked incredulously, grip tightening on the glass. Holy hell, the only things that could do that were ghosts and---

 

The smirk grew wider and Black Hat sat back, tapping his temple. “Now you’re getting it. Are you realizing the true nature of your situation yet, human?”

 

“You tricked me into a contract with a demon! Aren’t those permanent? Like, selling your soul to the devil? Oh, my God, just, holy…” Flug’s breathing quickened again. Fuck. _Fuck_ . This was the kind of thing that you hoped didn’t exist, the bogeyman under your bed when you dealt with heroes. Everyone was always skeptical of magic, but the carnage at his old employer’s mansion, his bouts of sheer terror (though that could be his anxiety but _still_ ), the inhuman appearance, the possession, hell, there was no way that _wasn’t_ black magic.

 

“Not that holy,” Black Hat said, looking annoyed. “Are you able to talk business or should I toss you to the hellhounds?”

 

“ _You have those?_ ” Flug’s voice raised an octave as he stared at Black Hat in horror. The demon cackled at his response and waved a hand dismissively.

 

“No, of course not! They’re terribly hard to maintain.” Black Hat suddenly turned serious as he clasped his hands and rested his chin on them. His monocle glinted like the dead eyes of a shark. “We do have to talk about workplace expectations, though. I can’t have some quivering meatbrick draining my time and resources. So if you were bluffing about your worth, or conned your way to the top, you’d best tell me know. Your death might be severely less painful.”

 

“N-no.”

  
  
“No, sir. Let’s have some propriety here”

 

Flug swallowed against the sudden thickness in his mouth. He felt like he was signing his life away. “No, sir.”

 

“Good. Are you alright enough to walk? Let’s get you to your accommodations.” Black Hat stood and Flug followed suit, albeit shakily. They walked out into a mammoth hallway, cold air brushing against his bare legs. They walked in relative silence until the turned a corner. Black Hat pointed at a set of doors down a ways to the right. “Your room contains a bathroom suite and a closet that’s pre-stocked. It’s basic, so if you want more than lab coats and jeans, come and talk to me.”

 

Black Hat’s gaze roved over Flug, a small smirk worming its way onto his face. “Maybe a suit? Something from Brioni would look quite dashing on you.”

 

Flug tried not to blush and mumbled in embarrassed thanks. Black Hat pretended not to notice and pointed further down the hall. “My room is strictly off limits. Don’t. Go. In.”

 

Each word was punctuated by a growl that doubled back on itself, and Black Hat’s pupil glowed in warning. Flug hastily nodded. “No snooping. Got it, boss.”

 

Flug didn’t miss the little preening puff of Black Hat’s chest when he pointed back the way they came. “If you continue that way, you’ll run into the kitchen and dining room. There’s a mini-fridge in your room for a reason. You’re allowed in the kitchen, but,” Black Hat shrugged and glanced at him from the corner of his eye, “with how delicate human constitutions are, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

 

They then took a staircase down to what must have been the ground level. Black Hat threw a switch and the lights flickered to life. Despite the awful ache that had been dragging on Flug since he woke up, he gasped like a delighted child. A whole wall of curtained windows for natural light, workbenches, testing chambers, a cryogenic tube, even a whole welding station. Flug turned to Black Hat, a goofy grin on his face. “This is all for me?”

 

Black Hat nodded, averting his eyes in discomfort. Flug didn’t care; this was the most high-tech lab he’d ever been in, and he had no one to get in his way. If he wasn’t sure that he would losing a limb for trying, he could have hugged Black Hat. “It’s amazing! Thank you so much.”  


“I’m glad.” The demon said briskly, still looking away as he snapped his fingers and Flug’s clothes appeared in a neat stack. He picked them out of the air, amazed to find them warm, like they’d come straight from a wash. His goggles sat on top of the pile, gleaming as though they’d been freshly polished. Flug looked up at Black Hat, certain his jaw was touching the floor. Black Hat gave him a glare and pointed a claw at him. “Quit looking so happy. I guarantee you won’t look that way in a few hours. I need an anti-grav device by tomorrow at noon. You got that?”

 

“Already?” He’d made plenty of anti-gravs, it was a piece of cake. They were simple, and now that the dread was wearing off, he’d much rather impress Black Hat off the bat than start with one of the most cliche devices in villain history.

 

“Is that a problem, Dr. Flug?” Black Hat growled. Flug shook his head, the fear sinking back in. RIght, he was working for a demon. Hoo boy. “Perfect. If you need anything, wait unless it’s important. I have accounts to clear.”

 

Black Hat turned to go when Flug cleared his throat. Most of the unease was back, and it was clear that the demon’s patience was due to this being day one. However, it didn’t mean that Flug wasn’t going to test the limits of this odd generosity.

 

“I-if it wouldn’t be any trouble, sir, may I have a paper bag? Like a lunch sack? Big enough to hold a head.” This was embarrassing, but if it would help him do his job and survive being in the service of a demon…

 

“Do you have any decapitated heads? Oooh, Dr. Flug, please tell me there’s more to you than that pitiful little meatbrick!” There was a crazed gleam in Black Hat’s eye, and his forked tongue ran over his fangs in anticipation. Flug shuffled his feet--it was his turn to look away.

 

“I like the feel, the smell. It helps me focus. Plus, ah, people can’t see my face that way.” Black Hat’s face fell, but he snapped his fingers anyway. The bag appeared.

 

“For the record, I think it’s stupid to wear a bag over your head,” Black Hat said as he turned around and left  Flug to is work. The engineer didn’t know why the comment stung so much, but it did. “You’re not a celebrity, or famous in a way that matters aesthetically. There’s nothing wrong with your face.”

 

The last bit resonated in his head, and he could’ve sworn he imagined it. Black Hat had gone, and he certainly didn’t seem the type to reassure his subordinates of their looks. Flug smiled a little and pulled the bag over his head, taking a deep breath and feeling the edge, its rough texture calming against his fingertips. He found he didn’t care if Black Hat said it or not as he shed his robe and changed, leaving the bag on the whole time, strapping his goggles over quickly cut holes. He felt okay, which, with the most likely to be turbulent hours ahead of him, was enough.

 

He started to weld and continued late into the night, preparing the best damn anti-grav device he’d ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psst I love comments. They're what i eat for breakfast, and you need a complete one to stay healthy. #keepletalishealthy2k17
> 
> (also for those of you who wanted to know, you can harass me on tumblr @cambionnation)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how to tag "Eating human limbs" but just a heads up, bc it ties in with the "Black Hat being Black Hat" bit
> 
> Also, thank you guys so much for all the positive support! I'm shocked to see this little thing get such wonderful feedback!

Flug leaned back and rubbed a glove over his covered face, blinking away exhaustion. He had no clue how long he’d been working, but the telltale prickle of his legs falling asleep meant he’d been on his feet for awhile. Combined with the still-present ache from earlier, he was ready to collapse.

 

He glanced at the inventions sprawled across the table. The main one, an anti-grav bomb, was almost done and was just lacking a power source. The secondary device, because Black Hat hadn’t specified what exactly he wanted the final product to be, was an anti-grav ray lying half-finished on the table. It was his insurance policy in case the first device wasn’t up to par. 

 

Glancing over to the door, Flug watched as the electronic clock flashed to 12:06. That was relatively early, by his standards. 

 

He looked back down at his projects. Well, as long as he was up somewhat early in the morning, he would have more than enough time to finish before his noon deadline. Flug yawned and stretched as he pushed away from the table, wringing his gloves as he made his way out of the lab. His stomach growled angrily--he hadn’t had anything to eat in ages. 

 

Climbing the stairs to the second floor, Flug glanced down the hallway, his stomach rumbling insistently. Wasn’t the kitchen down that way? Black Hat  _ had  _ said he was welcome there, even if he was discouraged from entering. Pfft, what was scary about a kitchen, Flug thought. Then he remembered the man to which it belonged to and shuddered.  _ There’s a minifridge in my room. _

 

A minifridge was for snacks, and he could eat a horse. It was mini for a reason.

 

Steeling himself, Flug headed off down the darkened corridor, rummaging around in his lab coat’s pockets for his phone so he could use the flashlight function. Unable to find it, he felt a sudden sense of hysteria when he tripped over what must've been a rug. The shadowed walls began to close in. He must’ve left his phone in the lab, he rationalized. No big deal, he could just go back and get it. He turned around, only to be met with darkness. Flug shrank back and he felt panicked.

 

He was lost.

 

“Goddammit,” he swore, turning left and right. Where was the damn hall that he’d came out of?

 

He nearly screeched when something brushed against his leg. Black Hat must’ve had a cat, right? A lot of villains owned cats. It added dramatic flair.

 

Cats weren’t smooth and slimy, though. Flug stilled as the thing seemed to coil around him. He heard noises that definitely weren’t a house settling; animalistic breathing, growls, hisses, what sounded like heavy footsteps rocking the floor. He must be imagining things. That was the only logical conclusion.

 

There was a low snuff behind his head and putrid air washed over him. The panic ramped up a few notches and he crouched low to the floor, trying to gather himself, hands over his ears and eyes squeezed shut despite the all-enveloping darkness. Maybe this was a nightmare. Yeah, he’d fallen asleep while working on the project. He cracked his eyes open to see slits of red, watching him from the darkness. He choked on his own breath. Flug felt as though he was going to die, and, in an absurd thought, hoped Black Hat wouldn’t be too mad if these beasts stained his expensive carpeting with his blood.

* * *

Black Hat was reading up in his room when it hit him--the delicious aroma of human fear. His eyes snapped wide open and a predatory grin split his face, the book he’d been previously occupied with gently set upon the lavish satin sheets.

 

“Oh my, what has the dear doctor gotten up to?” he asked softly, tugging on his coat as he stood. The second he opened his door the smell intensified, and he could feel his mouth water. It took a considerable amount of effort to remember that he’d hired the doctor on as an asset to the company, not an asset to his stomach. 

 

He quieted the clacking of his heels as he walked down the hall, batting away the malevolent spirits he kept as house guards. They worked quite well in frightening those foolish enough to try and steal from him. However, they had been given specific orders to not harm Dr. Flug.

 

Soon, Black Hat heard soft sobs coming from ahead of him. He sighed with how pathetic this doctor was turning out to be. 

 

The whimpering and sobs intensified until he found himself facing a crumpled Dr. Flug, the human curled into a ball at his feet. While this was normally how he liked his fleshbags, Black Hat found something mildly off-putting by seeing Flug in such a state. He wrote it off as the scientist being overdramatic. After all, what was a couple of young horrorterrors?

 

Okay, maybe he wasn’t being too dramatic, Black Hat conceded, when the body shook. He still snarled in disgust as he reached down to haul the sniveling doctor to his feet. Flug let out a ear-splitting shriek, nearly causing Black Hat to drop him.

 

“Shut up, you imbecile! Some people are trying to sleep!” Black Hat roared, despite the fresh wave of fear making him drool in delight. Maybe having Flug around, even if he was a pain in the ass, would do him some good. Flug would be a fun one to conquer, so long as he posed a bit more of a challenge. He nearly grinned at the thought as he continued his tirade. “Don’t you have an ounce of spine?”

 

“S-sorry, sir.” Flug hiccuped, hanging from Black Hat’s grasp like a kitten held by the scruff of its neck.

 

The demon opened his mouth when a grumbling caught his attention. Black Hat wasn’t the best when it came to human living conditions, but he knew they were supposed to eat rather frequently. They got distracted and upset if they didn't. He cast the doctor an annoyed glare. “How far are you on the device?”

 

“Near d-done, sir.” So he wasn’t shirking. At least that was good to know.

 

“You were heading to the kitchen, weren’t you?” Black Hat sighed when Flug nodded. Did humans ever hear what they were told, or just the bits they wanted? “Are you sure you want to go there?”

 

It was like a switched flipped. Flug straightened in his gasp, and his voice only wavered slightly when he said, “Sir, if I’m going to stay, I might as well know what I’m living with.”

 

Eldritch horrors, evil spirits, the rack of corpses in the kitchen freezer Black Hat kept for when he chose to eat, all things the demon wanted to shoot back. But he merely pinched where the bridge of his nose as supposed to be. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 

Flug squeaked when he was tucked under Black Hat’s arm like a sack. Spirits edged away, and Black Hat could feel Flug’s heartbeat slowly calm down as their presence lessened. He grunted in disgust; humans were pitifully easy to comfort.

 

Black Hat briskly made his way down the hall, not wanting to hold Flug a second longer than necessary, lest the linger scent of fear make him cave to baser...urges.

 

He dropped the doctor like a sack of potatoes on the cold tile floor of the kitchen, turning his back to Flug. Since he was there, he might as well get a snack. Disturbing his newest employee in the process was just an added benefit.

 

“U-uh, sir?” Black Hat hummed as he opened the refrigerator door to grab one of the jars settled inside. He heard Flug gulp nervously, any trace of ease scrubbed from his being. “Are th-those fingers?”

 

Rather than answer, Black Hat gave him a devilish grin before gesturing to the pantry. “Help yourself.”

 

Flug toyed with the collar of his shirt, still sitting sprawled on the floor. He stood up and slowly made his way to the pantry, casting a terrified glance over his shoulder. Black Hat made a “go on” gesture.

 

The doctor looked away as he eased the door open. It was so comical Black Hat nearly laughed. “I promise you that it’s safe.”

 

And he was right. Cereal boxes, a loaf of bread, some packages of  _ Paleton La Corona _ \--he certainly wasn’t short on human food. Black Hat had stocked the house in light of his little business investment earlier that day. He couldn’t have his doctor dying of starvation, now could he?

 

Flug sighed in relief, making the demon  _ almost  _ want to hand him the jar of fingers instead of the box of  _ Azucaradas _ he retrieved from the top shelf. Actually, Black Hat had no qualms with his relief if he could continue watching the way Flug stretched to reach the box, how he stood on the tips of his toes or leaned  _ just so _ , making his back arch in a way that surely wasn’t appropriate in front of one’s boss. Oh yes, he would have fun with this one, now he was sure of it.

 

“So,” Black Hat said once Flug had filled a bowl with cereal, the two awkwardly standing around an island bar, the demon casually resting his elbows on the exquisite black granite. He made sure Flug was making eye contact as he popped a finger into his mouth. “How is the lab treating you, doctor?”

 

“Fine, sir. It’s an amazing lab, and I promise that you’ll have no issues with your anti-grav device tomorrow,” Flug said as he pushed the paper bag up past his mouth and began to eat. Black Hat merely rolled his eyes; humans and their quirks.

 

“I’d better not,” as all the demon answered with, and they finished eating in silence. Black Hat walked Flug to his room, the doctor staying alarmingly close to his side. He could hear the other’s heartbeat beginning to speed, his eyes able to see the cause. Spirits were circling them, some curious and others hungry, all watching as Flug opened the door to his room. Black Hat blinked in surprise when the doctor didn’t quickly retreat into the relative safety of his room. “What’s wrong now?”

 

“N-nothing, sir,” Flug muttered, his goggles catching the few stray rays of moonlight coming from the window behind him. “Just...good night. See you in the morning.”

 

“I am baffled by you, doctor,” Black Hat said. Flug sputtered, but before he could form a coherent reply, the demon had turned on his heel and started off. He cast a quick look over his shoulder. “Pleasant nightmares.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is of Latinx descent and has experiences with things like Latinx snacks or foods or even fun little cultural things that'd you'd like to share, I'd really appreciate it! It helps me lean towards the show's origins, and'll help me make the story feel more authentic.
> 
> Again, thank y'all for the amazing feedback, and please leave a comment! I'm loving the things everyone comes up with :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of you are the nicest people ever! I love you guys! Like?!?!
> 
> Everyone's suggestions sound aMAZING (you bet your ass I'm going to try them) and the comments are amazing. Thank you guys so much! (All of you were like "I love the quick updates" and this one took awhile. I'm so sorry ^^; )
> 
> I took some *ahem* artistic liberties here

Flug had slept in late. Too late. The result?

 

He screeched as he tripped over a power drill he’d left carelessly on the floor (Flug had thrown it in a fit of frustration when the anti-grav device hadn’t taken hold of the first power source), rolling when he hit the ground hard, tucking the bomb close to his person. The near-complete ray dangled from his belt as Flug took the stairs two at a time, dashing towards the parlor.

 

In the light of day, the hallways were cozily lit and easy to navigate, dust mites floating lazily in the rays of sunlight let in by large windows. As Flug skidded around a corner, he checked his watch. 11:56.  _ He was going to make it. _

 

The parlor door was approaching fast, the dull noise of chatter pounding in Flug’s ears. He grabbed the handle and swung inside the room, barely noticing the startled yelps of the patrons inside. He zeroed in on Black Hat and picked his way over.

 

The demon was talking with a villain Flug barely recognized. A crime syndicate boss, maybe?

 

Black Hat glanced up at him, his gaze going from friendly to  _ you’re going to be thrown to the hounds _ in a split second. Politely excusing himself, he latched on to Flug’s elbow and hauled him over to the corner with a grip of iron. 

 

“ _ What took you so long? _ ” he hissed, eye glowing menacingly. 

 

Flug managed to choke out “S-sorry, sir,” before Black Hat yanked the device out of his hand, eyeing the ray at his side suspiciously.

 

“I hope you’re not planning on taking revenge on our patrons, Dr. Flug. That would be bad for business.”

  
  
“Pardon? O-oh! This was a backup device, sir. It’s not quite finished, so I’d hoped I…” Flug trailed off as Black Hat raised an eyebrow. Flug glanced behind him to find the room had gone mostly silent, the faces of villains, several that he’d worked for before, staring back. The ones he’d known were glowering angrily or downright fuming. He slowly followed their eyes to the device hanging at his hip, which he sheepishly pulled his lab coat over with a murmur of apology. He hadn't meant for it to look like revenge.

 

Hell, he didn't even think there would really be any villains here, much less the ones he'd worked for.

 

“I don't care, but you'll need stay up here until the end. In case we have, ah, technical difficulties,” Black Hat growled before turning to his audience. “Hello there, villains! I have the perfect product to make all those pesky heroes…”

 

Flug began to zone out, exhaustion gripping his mind like a vice. He didn’t know why he got such a poor night’s sleep--it might have had to do with the constant scratching at his door--but it had left him with only two hours to finish his project that morning, and frankly, he was about ready to topple over. The carpet looked pretty comfortable, after a--

 

“Flug! How does this thing work?” Black Hat called, and Flug nearly snapped back with frustration. Resisting the urge to scrub his face, he made his way to Black Hat.

 

“It’s an anti-grav bomb, sir. Button activated,” he said tiredly. Black Hat nodded.

 

And slammed his finger on the button.

 

The room began to float. Black Hat’s desk, his customers, even the demon himself were lifted from the floor. Flug kicked frantically when he saw the murderous expression on Black Hat’s face. “Flug…”

 

Sass boiled in the back of his throat-- _I did say_ bomb _, sir, it affects things in its radius_ \--but he swallowed it down after one glance at Black Hat’s sharpened claws. “Easy f-fix, sir. Just press the other button.”

 

Black Hat swiveled around. “We need to find the damn thing first,” he ground out, just barely loud enough for Flug to hear. He spotted something and lit up.

 

“Dementia! Get us down!” Flug blinked slowly. Had he gone crazy already? How could a brain degeneration disease reverse the effect of an anti-grav bomb?

 

High-pitched giggling was his answer as a wild-looking girl pushed her way through the villain crowd with feral grace. She snatched the device out from under Black Hat’s high backed chair, where it floated and gotten stuck when it activated. “Button.”

 

“No no  _ nonono _ !” Flug screeched as she pressed the “Activate” button again. A fresh shockwave of energy lifted everything higher, slamming some of the more fragile things against the ceiling. In a brief bout of horror, Flug hoped no one had gotten impaled on any of the morbid decorations Black Hat kept of the walls.

 

“Everyone floats,” she hummed before cackling. Black Hat was seething, this strange girl was floating closer and making Flug _ very uncomfortable _ , and the investors were murmuring darkly.  _ Great job, fuck up. First day on the job, now you’re gonna end up pickled in some jar to be a demon’s midnight snack! _

 

There was a tingle, like an electric charge, and everything fell with a mighty  _ whump. _ Flug screeched and landed on something hard.  _ Black Hat’s desk, _ his brain supplied wearily. He groaned and rolled of the hard wood. 

 

Black Hat was yelling at someone, but Flug only made out a blurry blue blob before he was hauled to his feet by a meaty hand.  _Couldn't he get a break?_

 

“You tried to kill the mistress,” a thick accent rolled over him as he was shook. “For that, prepare to die.”

 

Flug’s vision cleared, only to see a sweaty face broken into a crooked snarl staring back at him. “I-I promise it w-wasn’t my intent.”

 

The bodyguard--that’s what that mountain of meat was, Flug’s brain realized--reared back, as if in preparation to punch. His fist came flying towards Flug, the scientist scrunching his eyes shut in preparation for the blow.

 

It never came.

 

The grip on his collar loosened, and Flug dared open his eyes. The bodyguard was on the floor, his nose bleeding and fingers twitching. He was making small bleating noises. 

 

“I’d like to advise you against harming my top engineer,” Black Hat said smoothly, appearing at his side. “A mere demonstration is not an assassination attempt.”

 

He grinned like the devil. “And that was what that was. Try again, and I’ll be happy to do more than demonstrate.”

 

Flug muttered out half of a thanks, thinking that his boss might not be the cold maniac he’d seen last night, when he was pinned with a flaming glare. Nope, still a heartless demon looking to further his own goals. “5.0.5., would you kindly show our guests to the waiting room where we shall begin the bidding. Flug, stay here and clean up this mess.”

 

Black Hat sauntered out the door and Flug was suddenly left alone in the ruined parlor. The carnage of his failure was littered about the room, making a sour taste rise in his mouth. He groaned and kicked a demolished bookcase in frustration. “Goddammit!”

 

His first invention for Black Hat had backfired miserably, and his backup plan hadn’t been ready in time to save his ass. Now he was holding a oneway ticket for his death, and all he could do was shudder in terror. Would the demon draw it out? Make him beg? He’d made Black Hat look like an idiot, after all.

 

The same something from the night before brushed his leg. Rather than quake in fear, Flug lashed out with his foot, tears welling up behind his goggles.

 

“Blackie doesn’t like it when you mess with his spirits,” a voice chirped from behind him. Flug whipped around, reaching for his unfinished ray gun. It wouldn’t do jack, but maybe it could work as a bluff.

 

“Pfft, really?” He recognized the girl as Dementia, the girl who’d pressed the button on his device  and made his situation worse. He stalked forward, hands raised menacingly.

  
“Why I ought to…”

 

She blinked and stepped back. “You gonna strangle me, science man?”

 

With great effort, Flug lowered his hands, balling them at his sides. He counted to three, letting his anger out in a ragged breath. “Buzz off. Haven’t you done enough damage?”   
  


She shrugged and leaned on door behind her. In a fluid motion, she was suddenly scaling the wall, her head flipped over her shoulder as she continued to observe him. It was Flug’s turn to step back. “No. Why do you ask?”

 

“Uh, because, um…” Flug held up a finger, his composure shaken at the sight, a weak clapack on his lips when the doors slammed open. Dementia squawked and fell to the floor in a heap.

 

“Flug, we need to have a talk,” Black Hat growled, stomping into the room. The scientist barely had time to see the last of the buyers leaving the waiting room before Black Hat grabbed the back of his coat and hauled him from the parlor. He belatedly wondered if this whole “scruff dragging” going to be a thing.

 

“Oh, hi, Black Hat!” Dementia said in a sing-song voice, bolting upright and waving as he passed. He ignored her, leading Flug out into the hall. He stumbled as he tried to keep up with his boss, tripping over his shoes until he was slammed up against a wall. His battered brain spun with the impact.

 

“ _ What the hell was that? _ ” Black Hat roared, claws digging into Flug’s shoulders for emphasis. “I give you a simple job that you bungle up in front of live clients! Do you even value your life? I could kill you for that!”

 

“P-please,” Flug gasped, feeling light-headed. He wasn’t being choked, no, but all the throwing around and lack of sleep was making him dizzy. “I-I’m sorry, sir. I should have warned you about it.”

 

Black Hat was growling hard enough that Flug could feel his very bones reverberate, the demon’s face inches from his own. He could see his terrified reflection in Black Hat's monocle. “That’s it?”

 

“W-what’s it, sir?” Flug let out a tiny  _ oompf  _ when he was slammed into the wall again. He shook when Black Hat’s face seemed to split from his rage, tentacles appearing from shadow and curling in anger.

 

“A simple  _ sorry _ ? A 'whoops, my bad'?”

 

“B-but--”

 

“But what, you fool?”

 

“Well, it was my bad!” Flug shouted. His eyes widened in shock, his body tensing up for an inevitable beating as Black Hat’s expression mirrored his own. The tentacles and extra eyes (which Flug hadn’t seen at first but were absolutely terrifying) slowly melted back into his smooth skin. The pressure on his shoulders lessened.

 

Black Hat narrowed his eyes and Flug had to look away. “I-I really am sorry, sir. I promise it won’t happen again.”

 

The demon sighed and released him. Flug fell to the floor with a grunt, landing flat on his ass. “We have another auction next Tuesday. Give me a death  _ ray _ , and we will be having a brief meeting beforehand in order to avoid a similar scene. Am I clear?”   
  


“Yessir,” Flug mumbled, rubbing his sore shoulders.

 

“Good. Also, be glad that little stunt interested seven of our nine customers. And gave me an excuse to scrap one of my top competitors’ precious lap dog.” Black Hat was gone with a flick of his cape, leaving Flug to mull that over. He sat, dumbfounded, in the hallway, for what seemed like ages. Then, he went to scrub his face under his bag, feeling his eyes itch as the usual itch of sleep deprivation set in.

 

His cheeks were warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, i had no motivation for this. I have plans for shippy stuff, though
> 
> Leave a comment to get the shippy stuff shipped faster


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg you guys are amazing! These are the some of the nicest comments I've ever received, thank y'all so much!! That being said, I'm sorry for such a long update time; work got the best of me ^^;
> 
> but please enjoy this long ass chapter where my inner car nerd comes to play
> 
> (also you can totally tell at what point a started listening to faster pace music it's actually hilarious)

Flug learned that Dementia and 5.0.5 were additions to the household. Both “failed” weapons experiments of Black Hat’s old R&D department, they had came to the mansion in order for Flug to continue to run tests to determine their usefulness. So far 5.0.5 was the only one who was even remotely “useful”.

 

“God--Dementia! Give it back!” Flug shouted at the teenager as she hung upside-down from one of Black Hat’s fancy chandeliers, freeze ray clutched in hand. 

 

“No-pe!” she said, popping the “p” noise. “Gotta come get it, science boy.”

 

Flug growled, spinning the broom that he’d snatched from a shocked 5.0.5 when he had first chased Dementia down the hall. He swatted at her, but the chandelier was high above his head, too high for his arms to reach. She cackled and swung, her hair dangling  _ just  _ out of reach. 

 

“Dammit, Dementia! C’mon! Black Hat’ll kill me if I don’t meet his deadline!” As soon as he finished his sentence the air pressure dropped, making his ears pop violently. Clawed hands brushed against his shoulders, their touch deceptively light.

 

“How right you are, dear doctor,” Black Hat breathed next to his ear, hot air tingling the hairs on Flug’s neck. The air pressure returned to normal. “Dementia! Down here, now!”

 

The teenager giggled and flipped down from the chandelier, expertly landing on her feet. “Of course, Black Hat!”

 

The demon rolled his eyes and snatched the device from her outstretched hands, handing it to the baffled scientist. “Leave Flug alone during work hours. After that, I don’t really care.”

 

“W-wait! Sir?” But Black Hat had already vanished. Flug huffed in annoyance; his boss had a habit of doing that, often leaving Flug frustrated whenever he needed to have an actual conversation.

 

There was a shuffle and Flug glanced over at Dementia. His eyes narrowed when he saw the odd smirk on her face. “What?”

 

“Oh, nothin’.” She rocked back on her heels, her eyes traveling around the room before landing on Flug again. Her mouth turned into a jackknife grin. “I’ll give you a ten second head start. Start runnin’.”

 

“But Black Hat said--”

 

“Eight, seven, six, that’s an awfully dangerous weapon you must want me to get ahold of, five…”

 

Flug bolted from the room before she could count farther, cradling the freeze ray to his chest.

* * *

Out of the two, Flug preferred 5.0.5. In the week the pair had shown up, the bear rarely showed up in his lab, once to clean and twice when he had gotten a minor scrape. Dementia had come into his lab no less than twelve times because of an obscure injury, and while Flug noted she had an amazingly fast recovery time, she was prone to some of the most gruesome household injuries a person could get themselves into.

  
  
“Black Hat  _ did  _ say that he wanted you to study me,” she would say before waggling her eyebrows and laughing as he blushed so hard his neck became red, his hands shaking as he would pull part of a decorative mantle out of her shoulder or a dismembered sprinkler head from her hip. This visit, however, was different.

 

Her makeup was runny and her cheeks were red, but Flug doubted she had actually cried. From what he had seen, she didn’t  _ do  _ crying. But with the nature of today’s accident…

 

She was covered in cuts and scrapes, favoring her right side and walking with a limp. Dementia’s arm was fractured in three places: two cracks in her humerus and a split in her lower ulna. She had done worse, but had carried in an unconscious 5.0.5 with her wounds, wordlessly setting him on an operating table with a few grunts and unseen strength before sitting in Flug’s rolly chair, broken arm resting crookedly on the arm rest. She had said nothing the entire time.

 

5.0.5 was in the torn remains a large coat, like he'd been dressed as a person, as Flug shot a quick x-ray, finding that the mutant bear was suffering from several broken ribs and a ruptured lung. Flug wrung his wrists; he was no surgeon, but he had done hundreds of vivisections and the like during his time as a villain and one simply didn’t take a huge blue mutant bear to a hospital to be operated on. He sighed and picked up a pair of sanitized gloves before getting to work.

 

He was syphoning the excess air from 5.0.5’s chest cavity when he decided to break the silence. “Dementia, if you tell me what happened it’ll help me figure out the best way to help 5.0.5.”

 

She muttered darkly and shifted in the chair. He waited patiently until she spoke. “We just wanted to have some fun.”

 

Dementia’s voice was so soft that Flug had thought he’d imagined the answer. Then she pressed on. “I’d convinced him to sneak out with me--just to go over to the old movie theatre down in Central. I wanted to see the new  _ Mysterious Mistress _ movie that came out last week, y’know? So we went, and we used back routes and e’rything, got there without a hitch. Movie was great, we had fun, but 5.0.5 doesn’t exactly look like your run-of-the-mill citizen.”

 

Flug wanted to make a comment that she didn’t either, but thought better of it with how distressed Dementia sounded. “So, we snuck in. Back theatre doors were open and unlocked, and there were no cameras. Easy peasy. I bought the snacks once we got our seats in the far back corner. Man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen 5.0.5 happier. But the movie ended and we tried to leave the way we came. Thing is, this time we were spotted. Security decal was an old hero. Musta recognized us from Blackie’s videos. He chased us down 5th into this little alley and pummeled the shit outta us. He had wicked super strength. The only reason we aren’t dead is ‘cuz this.”

 

She showed him something that made Flug’s eyes nearly pop from his skull. The first prototype of the anti-grav bomb. It was dented on one side and singed on the other, but it was undeniably the first device he’d ever made for Black Hat. He set one of 5.0.5’s broken ribs and cast a glance at Dementia. She was smiling weakly. “Snatched it off Blackie’s desk earlier today. He keeps it as a memento.”

 

“I highly doubt that. He probably uses it as a paper weight,” Flug muttered. There was an awkward moment of silence. 

 

“Maybe. Saved our asses though.” 

 

They were silent for the remainder of the time it took Flug to finish setting 5.0.5’s ribs and sew him back up. The bear’s internal anatomy was like nothing Flug had ever seen; blood that was so thick and dark it was nearly tar, green veins decorating muscles that could produce enough force to tear a semi truck in two, yet 5.0.5, while clumsy, was the gentlest of the bunch.  His lungs had been nearly twice the size needed for a creature of his size, and when breaking his sternum, Flug found that his bones contained traces of metals, making it considerably harder to perform the operation. But, finally, 5.0.5 was back to normal, breathing peacefully in his unconscious state, the newly-made scar on his chest rising and falling in rhythm. With what Flug had observed with 5.0.5's previous injuries, the scar would heal in no time.

 

Flug set Dementia’s arm and sent them off, sleep deprivation buzzing at the back of his brain. He wiped his bag, only to remember that his gloves were still covered in blood. He hadn’t even noticed when patching up Dementia. He groaned. What kind of doctor was he if he couldn’t remember basic lab safety?

 

There was a chuckle and something stepped from the shadows. Flug rapidly stepped backwards, tripping over himself and falling fat on his ass. 

 

“How many times are we going to see each other like this, dear doctor?” Black Hat asked, swinging his cane in lazy arcs. The demon raised an eyebrow as Flug scrambled to his feet.

 

“Y-you were here the whole time?”

 

“Gods, no. Just popped in to check in on my doctor. Nice job, by the way. You finally began to study your subjects.”

 

“Seriously? They were extremely hurt and you want me to think of them as nothing more than anatomy class dissections?” Flugs fists were trembling. This fucking demon had the audacity to treat his charges--

 

“Well, you weren’t doing it on your own. You just needed a push, that is all.” Realization dawned on Flug.

 

“You sent the hero on them, didn’t you. You’re sick.” Black Hat gave him a look that instantly banished his anger as the already dim lights in the lab became dimmer. Flug shrunk back. “S-sir.”

 

“I did no such thing. I knew of their little ‘adventure’, yes, despite the fact I forbid you all from leaving without reason and permission. I allowed it to see what happened. Dementia is still a child, and I have no qualms with letting a child explore. She needs the real-world experience anyway.” Black Hat’s can swung one more time before hitting the floor with a sharp crack. “Also, remember that I’m your superior before you speak to me like that again. A superior that can rip you in two.”

 

“Y-yessir.” Flug hung his head, only to have his chin gripped and head lifted sharply to meet Black Hat’s gaze. Flug’s heart raced and he began to inexplicably heat up at their proximity. Black Hat was observing him, face kept in a bored expression until it split into a malicious grin. A forked tongue snaked out and Flug, who was frozen in shock, felt the warm press of it against his face through the bag as it trailed over the blood stains he had left there. Black Hat’s claws tightened on Flug’s chin, enough to draw his blood, before the demon withdrew, leisurely sucking on his claws as if he had melted ice cream on them and hadn't just  _licked his employee's frickin face._

 

“Good. I have a job for you, Dr. Flug. A quick errand. Do you think you can manage?”

 

Flug nodded, hand coming up under his bag to feel along the shallow gauges Black Hat had left. Among his terror, he felt a spike of cynicism. Great, yet another scar to add to the multitude that spotted his body.

 

“There’s an old warehouse a few of my rivals used to use, back when they were alive. There should be several Micro Fusion Generators inside, and I recall you saying that you’ll need some for one of your upcoming projects. Here’s the passcode,” Black Hat flipped his wrist and manifested a security card. “You can drive the _Banshee,_  if you want.”

 

Flug perked up at that, his wound all but forgotten. Just like many villains, Black Hat had a small fleet of luxury vehicles (though why he would need them with his manifestation powers, Flug had no clue) that he left sitting beneath the mansion. The fact he was letting Flug drive one, even if he didn't know what this "Banshee was, was a rare treat. Just the name made it sound extremely expensive…

 

“Of course, is she comes back with a scratch, well,” Black Hat chuckled before warping the space around him, Flug’s vision blurring and sheer terror consuming his very soul.

 

“Got it, sir! Not even a smudge!” Flug said, holding up his hands. The evil presence ebbed away, and something hard bounced off his chest. Fumbling to catch the object, Flug found himself running his thumb over a sleek set of car keys.

 

“Second row to the far left. Garage is down the hall to the left of the entryway. I want you back before two. Understood?”

 

“Of course, sir!” 

 

“Then go on. Out of my sight.” Flug nearly tripped over himself again, only this time in excitement. He’d never been allowed in any of his previous employers’ garages unless it was to make upgrades or repairs to getaway vehicles, and certainly not allowed to drive anything other than his old jalopy of a car. It had been destroyed several employers ago in a nasty escape.

 

After making a quick stop in his room to put on a fresh change of clothes and a clean lab coat, Flug walked down the entryway hall and slipped through a rather unassuming door--when compared to the rest of the house, at least. The lights flickered, sensing his movement, before turning on. First the row closest to him. Then the next. And the next. And the next.

 

Flug gawped at the huge expanse. Black Hat had to be using some sort of space-folding technology or something, because there was no way this all fit under the mansion. 

 

He wandered in an aimless daze until he found himself at the parking spot Black Hat had mentioned. And his spirits fell.

 

Of course that fucking demon would mess with his brain like that.

 

Parked among silver BMW i-8s and McLaren P1s was an old, beat-up truck that had a rusted out chassis and a bed that was crusted with questionable looking stains. It was probably a sick joke on the screeching noise this hunk of junk made when its engine ran. Flug nearly shrieked in frustration. 

 

He tried to take a calming breath and reached for the keys. Angrily, he noted that they felt like they were worth more than this slag-heap. He unlocked the junker.

 

Flug flinched as the roar of an engine that definitely did not come from a rusted out truck shook the ground. Shadows ripped out from the cabin and swirled around the truck. As suddenly as the onslaught started, it stopped, leaving Flug with his jaw touching the floor. A crazed giggle of disbelief escaped him.

 

A sleek Lamborghini Aventador was now idling in front of him, its black plating gleaming in the low industrial lights of the garage. Flug cautiously opened the driver-side door and eased himself inside. The interior was a rich shade of red, giving the infamously elegant Black Hat color scheme a whole new meaning.

 

Glad to have changed out of his bloodied clothes, Flug gently stripped his scarred hands of his gloves, folding them neatly and setting them in the passenger seat. He ran his bare hands over the cool leather steering wheel before gently brushing his fingers over the embellishment above the high-tech dashboard.  _ Banshee _ .

 

“Oh-hoh! I like this!” he whispered. Taking a quick peek over his shoulder, he slipped his bag from his face and pushed his goggles up into his hair. No need to look anymore conspicuous than he already did.

 

The car revved and Flug tore out of the garage lot and into the night air. He was laughing more maniacally than some of his previous employers as he sped down what appeared to be a private drive, trees whipping past his vision.

 

Wait.

 

Every time he had looked out of a window at the mansion, they had appeared to be living in a heavily populated suburb without a tree in sight. A quick glance in his rear-view mirror had him seeing a line of houses surrounding the mansion before quickly wavering and blinking out of sight.

 

The house existed in two planes.

 

Good for keeping out home invaders and had multiple escape routes.

 

Ingenious.

 

Flug stomped the accelerator, a grin making his way onto his face. The weight he had felt ever since becoming Black Hat’s engineer seemed to lift with each tick on the speedometer. He had a boss that finally wasn’t an idiot, or a fanatic, or another thug. Someone who actually possessed a real power--knowledge. And even though he exploited a lot of that knowledge (Flug’s fear and constant verge of a panic attack), he could actually use it. This might actually be…

 

Fun? If you discounted the daily threats against his well-being and ever-present terror, that was.

 

Flug whooped as he streaked around a corner, feeling a curious lack of fear when he saw the blurs of red that glowed between the gaps in the trees or the tentacles that slithered out of his peripheral vision. He rocketed out of the trees and turned hard right onto the freeway, his phone beeping at him before being transferred to an on-board computer. Flug was near giddy; this car was so damn cool.

 

There was the little Black Hat Inc. symbol as a loading icon before a GPS map popped up, taking him to the warehouse. It was unsurprisingly located in the industrial district on the south side of the city, meaning it would be a good half an hour before he reached it. Flug smirked and tightened his grip on the wheel. He couldn’t complain.

* * *

When he arrived at the warehouse, Flug was feeling less ecstatic and more anxious. The place had a general  _ X-Files _ feel to it that made the hairs on his arms stand on end. He parked and locked the car a ways out, finding that when it locked it shuddered and became the junker once more. He walked the remainder of the way to the site, shoving his hands into his gloves and slipping on the bag, its familiarity calming him somewhat. He pressed a small button on the side of his goggles--night vision lenses, a quick little thing he'd whipped up for himself awhile back.

The security card got him in without some much as a beep from the alarms, and he made his way inside. The goggles let him easily pick his way to the back of the warehouse, where he rummaged through shelves, looking for the Micro Fusion Generators. 

 

Thinking he heard something behind him, Flug turned, the green glow of his goggles revealing nothing. Handy things in the dark, night vision lenses.

 

Not so much when it was light.

 

Which was what happened when the lights blasted on, causing Flug to yell and flail wildly as he was blinded. He slapped at his goggles to turn of the night vision, only for arms to wrap around him. He swung wildly, but something slammed into the back of his head, leaving his vision to slip from white to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comments (tho you guys already do that and they're wONDERFUL) because otherwise my soul will become a heartless void
> 
> I kid, you guys are amazing
> 
> and tysm for the amazing feedback when it came to lantinx foods. I have another question: tv-shows? If anybody has good and funny sitcoms/soap operas, I'd much appreciate it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the feedback! Several of you had amazing ideas i'm definitely going to incorporate! and omg, the theories ashgfhvwdkfviev drown me in them!!!
> 
> Also, Sycophantism has an amazing fic called Pen Pals here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11177427/chapters/24953283 that I took the inspiration from for one of the heros because Zephyr is a sweetie (Seriously, the fic is so cute read iiiit)
> 
> warning for horrorterror-typical content, no holds bar (ok, some holds, because I'm saving the rest for later~~)

Flug was sitting in a tiny cell in the top security wing of the city’s prison, itchy jumpsuit agitating his scars. He rubbed his knees together when another gust of cold air blew through the halls, tickling his fresh wounds in a teasing manner. He hissed in pain and gently leaned his head back until it bonked against the wall behind him.

 

Two years of Jiu Jitsu, three years of Wíinkilil, and a few basic courses in Taekwondo and he’d been able to do nothing more than flail round like a bug on its back. Even with the freeze ray he’d brought specifically for such a scenario, he had been subdued like a petty thief.

 

It was rather embarrassing.

 

To be fair, it had been two heroes that had caught him. One he had been able to catch a glimpse of in his blurry night vision. Spines in stupid and careless places and a deep, gruff voice. Whoever it was had been arguing outside his cell a few hours ago, furious that they hadn’t killed him on the spot. Judging by the contusions and lesions on his arms and hips where he’d been grabbed and wrestled with, coupled with the monstrous goose egg he had on the back of his head, he had to guess that this hero had super strength, and had most certainly been holding back. He belatedly wondered if it was the same one that had attacked Dementia and 5.0.5, then nixed the thought. That hero had been much younger, judging by their voice and sheer anger.

 

The other hero, if Flug had to guess, was a speedster. It would explain how the pair bypassed the security system (older ones were unable to detect high speed objects and therefore couldn’t go off). This hero had a young, naive tone to his voice, and Flug had been able to catch a snippet of blue uniform before the other hero slammed the bars next to his head, whether intentionally or out of unconscious anger, Flug didn’t know. The second hero had immediately tried to calm the first one down, trying to reason with them that Flug needed to go through legal justice and he wouldn’t pay penance for his crimes as a stiff floating in the river. In fact, that made them the villains.

 

Flug had been glad when they left; when he had worked with heroes, their idealistic views had only slightly bothered him. It was naive of the younger ones, and flat out foolish of the older ones. Now, it downright pissed him off.

 

Where’s the justice for the thugs that made him kill thousands of people? The ones who killed Valerie just to get to him or end an uppity kid, or murdered their subordinates just because they were no longer useful. He would’ve happily thrown some of his former employers into the river. Wouldn’t even be sorry, too.

 

The thought shocked him, making him hug his knees close to his chest. Just spending a week with a demon had made Flug more villainous than years with despicable humans. Was he losing himself? Was his contract with Black Hat beginning to strip him of some of the simple values he’d been able to salvage all these years?

 

Flug gingerly touched his bruised cheek, hissing at the sting of raw flesh on flesh. Maybe his values were slowly being torn away with each new scar; Black Hat had certainly inflicted plenty in their short time together with his "contract".

 

Well, if things were going to continue the way they had been since he woke up, even the distance from Black Hat wouldn’t allow him time to heal. Interrogators had come in every hour on the dot, brutalizing him as he continued to refuse to answer their questions, and he doubted that the demon would save him. It was Flug’s fault he had been captured, after all.

 

This was the third time he had been in a prison; once on the other side of the tinted glass, watching a powerful villain receive the same treatment he was getting. The other was so long ago, the events too painful to think about, even though he had only been sitting in the prison’s general lobby, again on the other side of the bars.

 

He glanced down the hall, squinting to make out the hands on the tiny clock hanging above the warden station. It was almost time for the detective assigned to making him talk to walk into his cell, guards dragging him to that white room to be beaten yet again for answers he would not give. Flug sighed and pressed his face to his knees, mentally preparing himself for the pain. _Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight…_

 

There was a bang from deep in the prison. General holding, maybe? He was in the isolation block, the only noises coming from fellow inmates the occasional moan or angry muttering. _Fourty-six, fourty-five…_

 

Maybe they were rioting? No, alarms would be going off if they were, and the prison would be in lockd--

 

_Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee._

 

Flug uncurled his body and stood, coming to the bars. Others were doing the same as guards ran through the hall, barking orders. “Away from the bars! Get back!”

 

They had barely rounded the corner when the prison shook and groaned, cold air suddenly sweeping through the building like they were in a vacuum. That meant it must have collapsed somewhere in another wing, taking part of the sanitized isolation block with it.

 

Flug shuddered as human wails mixed with the klaxons. The building’s collapse wasn’t from structural failure, by the sound of it. Someone had broken in.

 

As soon as he had the thought, the hall went dark, lights popping in order approaching Flug’s cell. There was a few startled yelps, one older inmate muttering about how the dark always brought terrible things. In the time Flug had been here, she had been right about several things, even to the way the guards would brutalize him during their "sessions".

 

Silence. The klaxons had stopped, everyone was silent, save for their breaths, distant crumbling could be heard.

 

The boots of guards slapped the ground. “No one move!”

 

Flug inched back from the bars, careful not to make a sound. How they were going to enforce those orders in the darkness, he hadn’t a clue, but he didn’t want them shooting blind because he had tripped in his cell and made a noise.

 

“Damn, my light’s not working. You?” One of the guards asked.

 

“No. I’ve got a flare, though.” Red light illuminated their faces; young, if Flug had to guess, but the shadows dancing across their cheeks were deceptive. The guard with the flare rolled it down the hall where it stopped, the glow shining off of something. It quickly moved back.

 

Flug hit the deck as rapid gunfire filled the hallway, inmates all yelling as they did the same. The guards were shouting, and then there was a disturbing _CRUNCH_ followed by a body hitting the floor. The other guard was praying rapidly before letting out an ear-splitting scream. The hall descended into silence once more.

 

The tromping of more guards rounding the corner covered the heavy breathing Flug heard just outside his cell. Something grabbed his arm, something cold, like he had dunked his arm in ice water then put it in snow. He opened his mouth to scream when another thing grasped him around his lower face, effectively silencing him. One klaxon sputtered to life, uneven beams of red roving over the hallway. Flug was able to see a fancy shoe before the light swirled over the guards.

 

“Freeze!” One of the new guards shouted. There was a low chuckle as the light sweeped back to its source. Flug was unable to look up, the thing holding him preventing him from moving even a fraction. Then, he was suddenly manhandled to the floor by the unseen assailant, his head freed.

 

“I said _freeze_!” The redness enveloped the soldiers. There was the click of polished shoes on cement before openfire roared in the hallway. Flug looked up.

 

A gleaming grin, suit impeccable as bullets stormed around him. Two automatics raised in the air, presumably taken from the guards that had used the flare, before tendrils of shadow whipped around them and they open fired, bullets whistling out of the barrel at twice the speed of what they should have been physically capable of. The guns, suddenly out of ammo, were spun before being discarded.

 

“Come now, boys. Let’s talk about this.” Black Hat lunged forward, mouth elongated and fangs on display, his visible eye glowing in the light of the klaxon. Tentacles ripped from his body, extra mouths with huge fangs bearing down on guards and prisoners alike. Cell doors were ripped from the walls before the klaxon spun away, screams piercing the darkness. The light swung back, and blood soaked the floor, dismembered limbs scattered as shadows took them away. Then darkness.

 

Flug wanted to look away, but like watching a trainwreck, he couldn’t. He was horrified, as he should be but…

 

Black Hat raised over a corpse, primary mouth stretched in an unhinged grin, the carefully maintained control gone.

 

But…

 

The darkened sweep happened again and then his cell door was torn away, the red returning to paint Black Hat in blood. The tentacles were still out, either waving lazily or squeezing the life from the remaining bodies. Only a fraction of them remained.

 

Despite his ghastly appearance, Black Hat’s face was relatively back to normal as he stared down at Flug dispassionately.

 

“You’re an imbecile for getting yourself caught,” he said, little tentacle-like mandibles escaping past his lips. His voice was stern but not angry as it doubled back on itself.

 

Flug watched as shadows whipped past him to return to Black Hat, the pressure that had been keeping him pinned suddenly gone. He shakily stood, not even blinking as he accepted the tentacle Black Hat offered to help him up.

“S-sorry, sir,” Flug murmured as another tentacle checked him over, amazingly light as it brushed over the bruises and cuts covering his arms, his goose eggs, the swelling in his face. He tried to stay still, heat rushing to follow wherever Black Hat touched, pooling in the small of his back where a tentacle was supporting him. If the demon noticed, he didn’t care.

 

“There’s nothing that can’t wait until we get home. Come, Flug.” He helped Flug from the rubble when there was an alarmed shout that drifted into a gurgle.

 

“Missed one,” Dementia giggled from atop a guard, her nails stained red. She stepped on his head before approaching the pair, slipping Flug’s arm over her shoulders. He was surprised to find himself disappointed as the monstrosity that was Black Hat pulled away, his horrors folding in on themselves until he was normal.

 

“Where’s 5.0.5?” he barked. The blue bear waddled into view as if summoned (and at this point, Flug would believe it if he had, pentagram and everything), something clutched in his paws. He rumbled happily and held them out to Flug. It was his clothes, paper bag and all.

 

“Later,” Black Hat snapped, glancing over his shoulders as sirens began to shake the air. He reached out to grab 5.0.5’s shoulder, his other hand clasping Flug’s waist. Dementia clutched his arm and they were whisked away into shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I eat comments for breakfast don't let me go hungry! (jk I love you guys TT^TT )


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> y'all are amazing, I hope you know I sobbed a bit when I read some of your comments (which has also caused me to pick up a copy of a H.P. Lovecraft anthology with the Cthulhu mythos so I can be hella accurate)
> 
> A lot of you also said you enjoyed the tentacle hurt/comfort so...

Black Hat had figured something would go wrong and Flug wouldn’t reappear by two o’clock. 

 

He was sitting in the parlor, flipping through the final draft of his catalog before shipping it off to competitors when the chime of an ornate grandfather clock filled the room, along with chirping crickets from the cracked window and the screams of another foolish child as they were torn apart by spirits. Idiotic humans, always coming up the hill to see if his property was haunted.

 

Well, it technically was, but only when Black Hat hadn’t had his morning cup of blood and let the spirits out to do their business, something he didn’t understand why they had to do.

 

He groaned and rubbed the palm of his hand against his eye before glancing at the clock. 2:03. Flug was late.

 

Black Hat set the catalog aside and stretched. There were two possibilities, he figured; Flug had either betrayed him, stupidly, and taken one of his prize cars and keys to a weapons safehouse and needed to face the wrath of an Eldritch terror, or, the more likely option, considering the man’s disposition, he had ran into heroes. Hell knew they stalked the warehouse district like starved dogs.

 

Snatching his coat from its place on the armrest, Black Hat strode towards Flug’s lab, pushing the door aside with his hip as he messed with his phone. A gift from a former partner (one that had been ripped from his cold, bloody hands), Black Hat growled at the newfangled technology. He liked when things of technological nature were simple or had an extremely destructive nature. The phone was neither.

 

“Oh, hey, Black Hat! Wanna join?” Dementia and 5.0.5 were sitting on the floor of the lab, a pack of cards strewn between them. They might have been trying to play war, but several cards were stuck in Dementia’s hair, and there was a telling amount of paper shreds on 5.0.5’s mouth.

 

“No, you idiots. Flug isn’t back.” Black Hat looked down when the phone  _ finally  _ vibrated, the useless thing doing its job. The tracker on the car beeped on a GPS readout, still rather close to the warehouse, the screen glitching as it reacted to Black Hat’s dark presence.

 

“You want me to go after him?” Dementia asked, head cocked and nostrils flaring. Her super senses weren’t anything Black Hat didn’t have, but an extra set on the job could hasten finding Flug. Black Hat had a prickly sensation not unlike pain in his chest, though he didn’t know what it was. Dread or fear? That would be absurd; demons felt no such things.

 

Humans were incredibly fragile, though, and every second Flug was away and not under Black hat's watchful eye meant he was closer to breaking. Black Hat wanted that to happen by his own hands, in his own way, not for his little scientist to be smashed open and inspected by other meathanded fleshbags.

 

“Why would I be here if I didn’t want you to come? Take whatever you need from his prototype shelves. You too, 5.0.5.” The pair sprung into action, Dementia cackling gleefully as she rifled through the mess of dangerous weapons Flug had stored in the lab. 5.0.5 merely watched, holding out his paws when Dementia rounded on him, her arms unable to carry all the devices she had pilfered.

 

“Imbeciles,” Black Hat grumbled, before grabbing the two and whisking them to where the tracker had pointed.

* * *

Upon seeing the rusty holoform covering the Lamborghini, Dementia spluttered. “You’ve known this guy for like, what, a week? And you let him drive the  _ Banshee _ ? I’ve been asking for years!”

 

Black Hat ignored her and waved his hand, the form wavering until flickering out, the sports car shining underneath. To Flug’s credit, he had found a pretty inconspicuous place to park; in a dingy alley a good mile from the warehouse, a rusted-out truck would be an unlikely suspect for a getaway car. Black Hat almost smiled. He liked his humans smart. 

 

Dementia was still ranting as he turned to survey his surroundings. This early in the morning the darkness was like a sheet, muffling everything to bend shapes to the shadows’ whims. The only light came from lamps that had already been untrustworthy before Black Hat came into their vicinity. Now they sparked and flickered, some just giving in and guttering before popping as they went out.

 

Black hat could just see the river in the distance, its inky blackness punctured by the brightly-lit reflections of high rises and street lights. An odd feeling twisted in one of the demon’s many stomachs. Bodies frequented the warehouse river; it was a good dumping ground for experienced villains and low-level thugs alike. Flug could easily be floating face-down in the darkness, life long-since left his body.

 

He didn’t like the way the thought made him feel.

 

“Dementia! Perimeter!” She groaned before crawling up a wall, quickly disappearing over the rooftops. Paying no mind to the sniveling 5.0.5 behind him, Black Hat snapped his fingers, watching as shadows sped off. There was a tingling in his arms and a low popping noise as his senses expanded, a little bit of his true form leaking into this plane of existence. 5.0.5 whimpered.

 

Black Hat took a slow step forward, eyes closed so he could focus on the sensory assault on his mind. The dingy, soulless district was barren; he could find nothing. He took another step.

 

Several tentacles twitched to attention, and the demon gave a soft sigh. Fourteen officers, all within the area of the warehouse. If there were police, then that meant Flug must’ve been turned in. He withdrew his shadows, his eyes, and swept his tentacles behind him, teeth flashing in the darkness of his shadow. He glanced back to find 5.0.5 with his paws covering his face. Black Hat rolled his eyes. “Come on, you pathetic excuse for a superweapon. We have work to do.”

 

The bear cautiously peeked out, hesitantly following Black Hat. The two moved swiftly through alleys, the occasional  _ pat pat  _ of Dementia following above soft in the night air. There was a pause and a cough before a body fell from the roof, halfway landing in a dumpster, disarmed assault rifle dropping beside him. Black Hat caught the thumbs-up Dementia gave him before she slipped back into the shadows. 

 

They rounded a corner and ran smack into three officers. Before they could even scream, tentacles were wrapped around their throats, two of them slammed into walls while the third went out with a wet crunch. 5.0.5 was crying in his discomfort.

 

“Would you  _ shut it _ ? Do you want the doctor back or not?” He nodded, tears making his big eyes gleam. “Then do something useful, you damn pacifist! Check them for anything that can fire a decent shot.”

 

Black Hat glanced around the corner, taking in another seven officers walking around the warehouse. Their cruisers bounced blue and red off the walls as police walked out, loading dangerous weapons of villainy into the trunks.

 

_ Whump. _ “How’re we gonna do this?”

 

Black Hat growled and moved back into the shadows. Dementia tugged on her bottom lip, sending him a bored look. “Like, are we gonna save the nerdy boy? He got one of our spots found out. And, if we are, can we wreak some havoc? It’s been awhile.”

 

“We are going to rescue Flug. He’s a member of Black Hat Incorporated, and a valuable member too. By any means necessary.”

 

“Uh-huh,” she drawled. Black Hat glared at her, eye narrowing to a slit.

 

“What? Do you want to lose a finger?”

 

Dementia waved her hands in surrender. “No, not really. If it was me, though, you would at least wait a few days.”

 

“So? You can take care of yourself; Flug is a wisp of a human who could easily kick the proverbial bucket. I’ve invested a lot in him, and I’d like to see that investment pay off.” Was it him, or did Dementia just sigh in defeat.

 

“‘Guess you’re right. He is a twig. But twigs can hurt if they’re the bendy ones.”

 

Black Hat blinked at her. “Were...were you just trying to be prophetic?”

 

She cocked her head, her face stony. Then, it split into a huge grin and she cackled. “Naw, just sounded smart in my head. Right, let’s go kick some ass!”

 

He wanted to point out that she had purposefully changed the subject, that her cackle seemed a little forced, but she had already leapt out, gunfire filling the alleyway. Black Hat rolled his eyes yet again; he lived with imbeciles, and that inherent stupidity was what made Dementia hard to read. Stupid people tended to do stupid things, after all.

 

He followed her, tentacles whipping out and smashing into officers, extra mouths tearing off limbs and taking bites out of police cruisers. Black Hat was strangely unamused by the suffering, and turned his nose towards the warehouse, inhaling deeply. Any trace of Flug's scent was stale.

 

He wasn’t there.

 

County jail it was, then. If he wasn’t there…

 

No. Black Hat would see his little investment through. With only a week bound together, their contract wasn’t strong enough to reach out through, so the lack of response equally meant death or weakness in connection. That was fine,  _ that  _ was something Black Hat could work with.

 

But first, he needed to dispose of the evidence. Black Hat had stayed under the radar through diligence, and a little upset to his normal routine would not become a security breach. He already had diagnostics of everything in the warehouse.

 

A snap of his fingers had the building going up in blue flames, the fire jumping in unnatural arcs to eat the police cruisers and the limp bodies of dead officers. Black Hat twined his hands behind his back, watching the carnage unfold. He always did enjoy field work.

 

“What now?” Dementia asked, casually gnawing on a baton. 

 

“We strike them at their heart,” Black Hat growled. “And send a message.”

* * *

The break-in had gone according to plan, and the release that Black Hat had felt had been  _ wonderful _ . He now had enough bodies stocked up for several months, should he choose to eat regularly, and he had been able to take out a good deal of pent up energy and stretch more of his body then usual.

 

But the aftermath had made him question his methods, something he hadn’t done in a long time.

 

Black Hat had long-since kicked Dementia and 5.0.5 out of the parlor, leaving him and Flug to themselves. The doctor had said nothing since his rescue, his hands trembling as he held a now-cold cup of tea. Flug had ran to a bathroom the second they arrived at the mansion, the sounds of retching audible behind the locked door. Shadow transport was not for the weak and damaged, two adjectives that currently described Flug quite well.

 

He had emerged in his old clothes, noticeable bloodstains and tears littering his lab coat. He had wordlessly handed the prison jumpsuit to Black Hat, paper bag making his face unreadable. 

 

The demon had led him to the couch and gave him tea, hoping that the kind gesture would knock him back into his senses. Two and a half hours later, he was still unresponsive. Black Hat had tried screaming at him, scaring him, bringing out tentacles, even a few bribes, but nothing had happened. Finally, he sighed and leaned back in his armchair, observing the hunched doctor from behind steepled fingers.

 

In such close proximity, Black Hat could feel the faint,  _ faint  _ tug of their budding contractual bond. In practice, the stronger the bond grew, the more control a demon would have over the human. But if this continued it would be nothing more than a thin thread, easily snapped by a careless error. Black Hat didn’t want that. 

 

“Flug, talking apparently helps humans get through this sort of thing.”

 

The doctor chuckled, startling Black Hat. The chuckling grew louder until it became hysterical, Flug slamming the cold cup of tea on a table before standing, sweeping his arms wide, the gesture uncharacteristic enough for Black Hat to quickly sense and see if another demon had influenced his doctor.

 

“Oh, I should ‘ _ talk about it _ ’? Okay, how about I talk about this? I did some research before I was caught. I read up on demons and demonic contracts. And I found something that I really hoped wasn’t true. But  _ tonight  _ confirmed what I thought! Jesus Christ, I didn’t sign a contract with your regular old run-of-the-mill demon, I signed one with an  _ Eldritch _ , didn’t I?”

 

Black Hat was taken aback by the outburst, too surprised at the doctor yelling to be enraged with it. “Yes.”

 

Flug moaned and sunk back into the couch, hands scrabbling at his paper back, the sack crinkling and tearing. Black Hat stood, finally able to register the situation. “You signed a contract, you pathetic excuse for a human! How about a thank you for saving your sorry ass? They would have sentenced you to death for your weapons contribution to villains around the world!”

 

Black Hat grew with each word, threat dripping from his voice, relishing in the shake that Flug’s body developed. But the doctor continued. “I’ve h-helped heroes too! I could’ve blamed you for it all!”

 

The demon laughed angrily, tentacles bursting from his body. He was still hypersensitive from the night’s killings, his powers unstable and activating at the slightest emotional imbalance. “Oh, please. You think a hero would have bailed you out just because you pointed fingers at the wrong side? No one’s left for you, doctor, no one but me! So I suggest you take what’s being offered and _ quit being an ungrateful little fleshbag _ !”

 

Flug growled in frustration, hands curling into fists. “Oh, my god, I took ‘what was being offered’ because it was my only choice! What, do you think I  _ wanted  _ to work for some Cthulhu impersonator?”

 

Black Hat gasped, claws covering his chest. About twenty different eyes narrowed. “How  _ dare  _ you.” 

 

Flug stepped forward, presumably to counter, when he coughed, his bag soaking up red. He doubled over, shaking not in fear but pain, coughs wracking his body. Black Hat took a deep breath as he watched the human collapsing in on himself, slowly shrinking down to his normal size as Flug shuddered. He was sobbing softly, his burst of confidence gone as his anger fizzled out. Black Hat reached out with his remaining tentacles, stopping when the doctor sent him a weak glare. “I’m fine.”

 

Black Hat snorted, exasperation practically leaking from his very aura. Why did this human have to be such a genius yet so difficult? “You obviously aren’t.”

 

Flug tried to swat away the tentacles, but his feeble grip was unable to fend of the insistent Eldritch. One tentacle carefully wrapped itself around Flug’s waist to steady him, another gently patting his back while a third reached under his bag. The engineer burbled incoherent protests as Black Hat took his temperature. His body as overworked, his wounds were sapping his strength, and he was in no shape to stand up to Black Hat. Well, not that he would be under normal circumstances, but even less so now. He could feel Flug’s sickly aura wavering against his, and the faintest bit of distress across their contract.

 

“Let’s get you to bed, you idiot. You have work in the morning,” Black Hat murmured, coercing the doctor from the parlor and out into the hall. He snarled at a group of spirits that had began to gather due to Flug’s discomfort, watching as they scattered. 

 

“I don’t get it,” Flug said as they slowly made their way up a flight of stairs, the doctor leaning heavily against the tentacles supporting him. If he noticed the odd ooze leaking from one or the mindless gnawing of his lab coat from another’s extra mouth, he said nothing. “You’re supposed to be awful. Like, making me piss myself at every possible moment, or torturing me in the most brutal ways possible, or…”

 

He continued to list horrors, growing more gurgly and upset with each one. Finally, Black Hat decided that he had let the doctor babble enough.

 

“Why would I do that if it reduced the productivity of my employees? How efficient would you be if you were too scared to round a corner or close your eyes at night? That’s not logical at all.” By the time they reached Flug’s room, Black Hat was supporting all of the doctor’s body weight, his feverish skin burning against Black Hat’s side. The demon reached around Flug to push the door open, leading him inside and onto his bed. 

 

“O-oh. I guess that makes sense.” Why did Flug sound so disappointed? Had his high temperature made him delusional? Or had he gotten an infection from his wounds?

 

Because if that was the case, Black Hat would make sure that the souls responsible for causing such harm to his doctor would do more than burn in hell.

 

“You should rest. I was serious about working tomorrow; if you’re able to walk and hold down a meal, you can build an eradication ray. I’ll send 5.0.5 in with some pain medicine later.” Black Hat slipped back into his simpler form, fussing over his tie (which he had gotten a few specks of blood on from the prison guards, damn those filth) when rustling caught his attention. Flug was struggling to sit up, his paper bag and goggles pushed far enough back on his head so that they made unprotected eye contact.

 

Black Hat had seen him uncovered several times, but the wisps of dark, curly hair framing the doctor’s scarred face seemed particularly off-putting this time, especially considering the vulnerable slant of his eyes or the reddish dusting of his cheeks.

 

“Um--uh, okay, how do I…?” He looked up before quickly glancing away. “I-I did want to say thank you, for, y’know, breaking me out. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I-I’ll make it up to you. You’ll have the best eradication ray ever, no doubt about it.”

 

Black Hat chuckled, surprised to find actual amusement in the action. “Those are big words, doctor. What happens if you don’t measure up to them?”

 

“Uh…” Flug’s face looked like it was on fire and he pulled the bag back over it, hands wringing themselves furiously. “Horrible, never-ending torture?’

 

Black Hat winked at him, the demon watching as Flug’s comfort was infused with a tad of fear. It was such a delectable combination that Black Hat had to physically restrain himself from morphing into his true form and carting the doctor away to have  _ more _ . 

 

Instead, he inclined his head before vanishing from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, seriously thank you! This story has nearly hit 500 kudos, which blows my freaking mIND, oh my god.
> 
> I'm really enjoying writing this, and I love reading your comments! They really brighten my day and are a huge motivator


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi I pumped this out in a day because of the amazing things y'all said in response to the previous chapter
> 
> and what the hell we passed fricken 500 kudos what is this madness?

Flug was wobbly in his lab the next day, a dangerous cocktail of painkillers and spotty sleep making him unsteady as he shuffled around. He could stand and keep down a glass of water, so he figured that he met Black Hat’s work requirements.

 

The lab felt hot, too hot, and he had long since discarded his lab coat. Reckless, stupid, he knew, but the heat was stifling. He was only doing base construction, anyway, blueprints and the like, but in a lab such as his, it as smart to stay covered at all times. 

 

But to hell with that. He was hot and sweaty and irritable, his hands were burning up in his gloves and his paper bag was sticking to his forehead. With a growl of frustration, he ripped the offending objects from his body, the gloves hitting the table with a sickening slap and the bag fluttering to the floor. Parts of it were still stuck to his skin or in his hair, as his goggles were still anchored over his eyes, leaving him even more frustrated.

 

Was he sick? Had his injuries really fucked him over this badly? He groaned and rubbed at his sore arms, the pads of his fingers rough over the tender flesh. He stared at the bruises, yellow and blue staining his pale skin. They didn’t appear to be leaking, or super agitated, or show any other signs of infection.

 

He then turned his arm over to stare at the three long scratches that Black Hat had left on his wrist when they made their contract. Flug blinked in surprise.

 

The fragile scars had broken open during his brief stay in prison, but had seemingly healed overnight. He pushed his goggles up onto his forehead and took a closer look, running his thumb over the damaged flesh. Despite the quick recovery, the scar was still there, and alarmingly darker than it should have been. It almost looked like blood had welled up underneath it, leaving the skin a deep, deep red. When he touched it, he found it to be cool to the touch, but his wrist felt anything but cold. If anything, that was one of the hottest places on his body.

 

Flug decided to look into it later, when he didn’t have a deadline to meet. He brushed it one more, fingernails lightly tracing the slashes. A ginormous shiver suddenly han down his back, like he had gotten the biggest cold chill of his life, and something was suddenly wrapped around his wrist. He screeched.

 

“Doctor?” Black Hat had materialized from nowhere, his claws around Flug’s wrist. He looked equally shocked. “Did...did you just summon me?”

 

“U-um, I-I-I ah...well, um, god, uh, hi?” He didn’t know why he was having difficulty speaking to Black Hat, but the demon was still baffled enough to not yell at him for his stammering. “M-maybe?”

 

Black Hat looked at him for a solid three seconds before realizing he was holding Flug’s wrist like a vice. He eased up on the pressure and opened his hand, raising the scientist’s arm to get a better look at the scars. Flug could feel the Black Hat’s warm breaths against his sensitive skin, their exceedingly close proximity making Flug all the more hot. He thought he even could smell a hint of men’s cologne, but it was faint enough that it could just be his addled imagination. Flug had always been too scared or tired Black Hat’s presence to really take it in and analyze it. He found that the Eldritch actually smelled alright, that weird cologne-y smell mixed with firewood and rain, not rotting bodies like Flug had previously thought. Maybe that was when he was using his powers or agitated. Also, Flug realized, in this form Black Hat was only a bit taller than him, and his hands, which were moving against Flug’s own, were way colder than a human’s, and much smoother too.

 

“It wasn’t like this last night,” Black Hat muttered, moving Flug’s wrist this way and that to study it at different angles.

 

“What?” Flug didn’t get an answer, only a serpentine tongue that flicked out to tickle over the scars. The scientist giggled despite himself, only to quickly cover his mouth at the odd look Black Hat sent him. “Sorry, sir. I guess I’m just a bit ticklish.”

 

“Tick...lish? What’s that? Why did you laugh?” Black Hat let go of his wrist, and Flug lamented the loss of contact. This was the second time he found himself upset by this; why would he want to be close to an abomination that snacked on human fingers and happily ripped people apart?

 

“Ticklish? It means someone’s skin is sensitive when it comes to light physical contact, sir. You laugh because the part of the brain that feels this is the same one that tells you when something’s painful. It’s like a pleasurable defense mechanism. Or, at least, that’s that I learned in my old bio class.” Black Hat was now  _ closer _ , which had Flug trying to back up when a shadow wrapped around his leg, keeping him still.

 

“Are you still ill, doctor? Is that why your skin is sensitive?” Black Hat’s face was mere centimeters from Flug’s, the doctor trying not to make eye contact and failing miserably. Flug had never noticed the little slit of red that gleamed in Black Hat’s pupil, or the faint speckling of dark teal over where Black Hat’s nose should have been, giving him the appearance of having freckles.

 

“N-no, sir. I’m perfectly fit for work!” Flug said as he swallowed a cough, hoping Black Hat didn’t notice. The demon gave him an exasperated look.

 

“Fine. If you’re stupid enough to think that you can build a ray in your state, then don’t let me stop you. But it had better function impeccably.” Black Hat narrowed his eye, a claw suddenly running down Flug’s cheek. The doctor made a vague choking noise as his brain seemed to suddenly short out at the unexpected action. Black Hat, completely oblivious, stared at his finger before showing it to Flug. “That is disgusting. Why are you sweating so much?”

 

“B-because it’s hot in here, sir? Maybe the thermostat is broken?”

 

Black Hat flicked his finger around to point at Flug. The scientist noticed the tip of one tooth sticking out just below Black Hat’s upper lip. “Nothing happens to the thermostat without me knowing.”

 

He stared at Flug for a few more seconds before backing away, manifesting a handkerchief to wipe his finger. “Whatever. Just get the ray done.”

 

Black Hat glanced up and snapped his fingers. A paper bag materialized in Flug’s hands. “And do not summon me again.”

 

Rather than vanish, as per usual, Black Hat walked out through the door this time, leaving Flug to stare after him. His wrist was pulsing gently, like a heartbeat, only he knew it wasn’t his, because his heart was frantically pounding away in his ribcage. He wiped at his forehead; Black Hat was right, it was gross that he was sweating so much.

 

Flug glanced at the door one last time before squaring his shoulders, pushing the pounding in his head away. He cracked his fingers. Right, he could do this. He’d worked through colds before, this was no biggie. 

 

First, he wrapped his wrist with some spare gauze (there was no way he would accidently be summoning Black Hat again) before setting the spare freeze ray to its lowest setting and coating the lab’s fans with ice. After solving those two problems and fixing the bag upon his head, he went to work on the eradication ray.

 

It would be hours before he took a break, but when he did, he decided he felt less sick to his stomach than earlier and made his way to his room, avoiding the kitchen. Just the thought of a repeat of the Black Hat-eating-fingers situation made his stomach upset again. He would stick to heating up instant noodles the heat gun he left half-assembled by his bed in case he couldn't sleep. 

 

He was nearly to his room when he found Dementia crouched in the hall, intensely staring beyond him. Flug looked over his shoulder, and, finding nothing, turned back to Dementia. “Are you okay?” 

 

She waved him over, Flug cautiously approaching when she screeched, “Get outta the way!”

 

Something large flew past him, a sudden shiver of dread making him prickle. “What in the…?”

 

Dementia was laughing as she appeared to scratch the air, plucking what appeared to be a floating candelabra from nothing. Flug had to do a triple take. “Good boy!”

 

The longer Flug stared at the space Dementia was scratching, the more he saw a faint outline of...something monstrous. Whatever it was took up nearly the entire hall, its iridescent outline brushing the ceiling.

 

“Wanna give it a shot?” Dementia asked, holding the candelabra out to him. Flug felt the watchful gaze of dozens of eyes round on him, but the presence wasn’t threatening. It was like a dog begging at the table.

 

Flug shakily accepted the candelabra, waving it above his head. “Uh...you want the stick?”

 

The thing seemingly bristled and a stronger wave of dread washed over Flug.

 

“You’re doing good! If you feel like you’re gonna pass out, it means he’s happy!” Dementia said, looking paler than usual. She might have been shaking, but then again, Flug was too, so he couldn’t be a good judge. 

 

“Go get it!” Flug threw the candelabra and hugged the wall as the creature rushed past, creaking floorboards groaning in its wake. The dread slowly dissipated until it was just vague unease. Flug turned on Dementia. “What was that thing? It was huge!”

 

Dementia looked at him in surprise. “You can see Alan?”

 

“Alan? That thing’s name is  _ Alan _ ?” 

 

Dementia shrugged. “Well, Blackie is the only one who can actually  _ say  _ the spirits’ real names. Stupid ‘Old Tongue’ and all that. I just name them based on how much I feel them. This guy is pretty friendly, and he seemed like an Alan to me.”

 

“Okay?’ Flug’s heart sped up as anxiety began to grip his body.

 

“Oh, look! He’s back!” The odd outline skidded to a stop in front of Flug, the candelabra clattering to the floor. “I think he wants to be scratched.”

 

“Where?”

 

“I dunno. You’re the one who can see him.” Flug reached up where he thought the thing’s head could be and scratched. Something solid met his hands, and a deep purr reverberated in his bones.    


  
“Do you know why I can?” Flug asked as he threw the candelabra again. Dementia shrugged. 

 

“No. Blackie can, though. You guys have a contract, right?” Flug nodded, a foreboding feeling filling his chest. “Might have somethin’ to do with that.”

 

“Oh.” Alan didn’t return this time. Flug glanced down the hall, only to have Dementia slap his back.

 

“He’s probably done for today. I think he likes you!”

 

“Didn’t feel that way last week,” Flug muttered, but Dementia had already skipped off, their odd encounter over. He sighed and slipped into his room, deciding that he may have needed to do more research into the paranormal.

* * *

Black Hat was unable to do his settlements that evening after talking to Flug. The fact that their bond had strengthened considerably after one night? Amazing. 

 

Was Flug beginning to trust him?

 

He had felt the weakest tug at their bond earlier, unsure if it had been intentional. Then it happened again. And again.

 

Black Hat had quickly gone to investigate, only to find Flug examining his binding point. The thoughtful look on the doctor’s face would be one he would never forget.

 

He wasn’t even surprised that the idiot was already overworking himself. No, the real shocker had been when he had been roaming the halls of the mansion, killing time, when he had heard Dementia and Flug talking. A quick peek revealed that not only was Flug timidly learning to interact with spirits, he could begin to see them. 

 

Exposure to the unnatural after a contract meant that a human could start to see things they normally couldn’t, experience feelings in a way they would have previously found impossible. Again, the fact that Flug was becoming aware so fast was astounding. His little human was even more difficult than he first thought.

 

Let it never be said that Black Hat didn’t like challenges.

 

Still, the fact that after having only a small tether the previous night, Flug’s capacity to reach through the contract was rather odd. Unheard of, even. It brought him back to his original question.

 

Was Flug starting to trust him?

 

It was a foolish decision on the human’s part. Who in their right mind would even put a smidgen of responsibility in an Eldritch abomination’s hands? Just the thought of Flug thinking he could put his life, his future, in Black Hat’s claws made the demon want to abuse that power. Badly.

 

And yet, he didn’t. He enjoyed surprising Flug, showing the scientist the occasional kindness then turning around with a jab a few seconds later. It made for an entertaining combination.

 

_ An enticing one, too _ , Black Hat thought, watching the stretch of Flug’s shirt as his shoulder blades pulled at the fabric when he wound his arm back to throw the candelabra, or the occasional curl sticking out from under his bag bouncing whenever he moved. His scars and bruises were another feature that drew Black Hat farther down a hole he wasn’t sure he wanted to fall in. They highlighted some of the doctor’s best traits in a readable painting on his skin; his struggles, his defeats, his submissions, his rebounds. In one week, Black Hat had been able to dissect this human more thoroughly than he had with hundreds of them in years past, and yet he felt as though he was missing so much. 

 

Black Hat ducked out of sight as Flug, now done with playing fetch, headed his way, entering his room without a second look at an oddly placed shadow. Black Hat nearly  _ tsk _ ed; he would have to teach his doctor to be more aware of the non-scientific aspects of this universe. Oh, how he would need it; Black Hat didn’t plan on letting this one go.

 

His challenge had just begun, after all, and he was intent on conquering it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are my gasoline. Quite literally, at this point. I love hearing everyone's theories; give me more!
> 
> p.s. Flug occasionally jury-rigs the heat gun to the shower head whenever the house runs out of hot water.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long hiatus. School has been kicking my ass to the moon and back, and my home situation hasn't been the best. I'd like to thank Petitprincess and everyone else for the positive comments through my inactivity, and know I have no intent on stopping. You all are some of the sweetest readers I have ever had, and I intend on seeing this story through to the end.
> 
> Now have Flug being a bit of a badass

The next couple of weeks found Flug forming a routine. He would wake up late in the morning, haul himself out of bed into a freezing shower before throwing clothes on, and manhandle the coffee pot into giving up two steaming cups of high-octane caffeine (his own special blend). After his shoddy excuse of a morning routine was over, he would enter his lab, work late into the night with a few rushed breaks for food and using the bathroom, and retire in the early hours of the morning just to start all over again.

 

He saw Black Hat less and less after that first week, and they rarely talked outside business. Flug didn’t hate it, per say, but a small bit of him was upset that they were spending less time together. He would quickly remind that bit of him that Black Hat was a demon that found a demented pleasure in warping reality beyond the limits of human perception.

 

Flug hadn’t left the mansion since that fateful night, but he found he couldn’t complain. He was well fed--when he left the lab to eat--and was making bank. The first time Black Hat had shown him his paycheck, Flug nearly passed out. Of course, he had then claimed that he needed to cut some out to pay for Flug’s living expenses, and the rest couldn’t really be spent when he had everything he needed. Instead, he saved it, just in case the chance to retire did miraculously fall into his lap.

 

_ He could leave now _ . The thought nagged him from the depths of his mind. Black Hat was gone at a multi-day villain convention to sell Flug’s latest weapons, and Dementia and 5.0.5 were upstairs watching an old movie in the home theatre. If he moved quietly, he might be able to…

 

No way in hell. He shut the idea down with a shudder. Just thinking of what Black Hat would do to him if he tried to violate their contract made him sick to his stomach. In fact, he felt sick enough to set down the welder he had been using and head out of the lab. Taking a quick break usually helped him feel better, and he didn’t want to get sick all over the pocket nuclear reactor he was working on.

 

He was halfway to the bathroom when there was the faint sound of a door slamming. Flug jumped; Dementia never turned the handles unless she was trying to sneak up on someone, and her raucous bangs always sent him into a near fit of anxiety.

 

Muffled voices could be heard from downstairs, making Flug start in surprise, then stop cold. Black Hat wasn't due back until tomorrow, and Dementia and 5.0.5 were watching a longer movie and they had recently started it. There was no way they could’ve finished and made it downstairs without Flug noticing. Dementia was always a sobbing, paranoid wreck after superhero movies.

 

Flug closed his eyes and gave a soft whistle under his bag. Nothing. Dementia had taught him the trick awhile back in order to get the spirits to come and play with her. The one time he had tried, he’d nearly been squashed under an invisible dog pile.

 

The vague disquiet sharpened, but not from a spirit. They were never far, always roaming the halls or tucked around corners. For them to be gone…

 

Flug inched forward until he came to the door to Black Hat’s office. He slipped inside, quietly shutting the door behind him. He then armed himself, shuffling through drawers and piles of organized documents until he found the prototype weapons Black Hat left lying around. A light grenade, a memory wipe ray, a lava gun, he grabbed them all.

 

He felt a hot breath on his neck and he whipped around, lava gun leveled. There was nothing. Flug swallowed and clicked the safety off, edging forward. A hero with invisibility as their power, maybe? He had ran into several of those before; they were nasty buggers.

 

There was a soft whine and Flug’s stomach rolled in discomfort. He lowered the gun. “Alan?”

 

Something brushed Flug’s arm and fear jolted up his spine. The scientist laughed nervously. “You really scared me there, buddy.”

 

_ Crash _ _!_ It came from downstairs.

 

The spirit growled, it’s outline bristling in an aggressive display as the voices downstairs grew louder. Flug shouldered the lava gun and swallowed nervously. There were a lot of valuable objects strewn around the house, not to mention the experiments he had laying out in his lab. Who knew what the intruders were after; heroes or villains, if they got their hands on some of Flug’s newer projects, the results would be devastating. The home theatre was soundproofed, so Dementia and 5.0.5 would never see anyone coming, and he counted them out for help. The rest of the spirits still seemed to be missing, so that left him and Alan as the only options to defend the house.

 

Flug tiptoed towards the door, voices becoming louder and angrier with every step. Pressing his ear against the expensive wood, he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He eased it open and poked his head out into the hallway. There was no one in sight.

 

He stepped out into the hall and gently switched the gun’s safety back off as he carefully made his way towards the stairs, Alan’s presence not to far behind. The tail of Flug’s lab coat swished softly as he approached the stairs leading to the foyer, his eyes narrowing behind the goggles. The voices were starting to become coherent, one of them sounding oddly familiar. With a surge of recognition, he realized it was the angry hero who had captured him a week ago. His grip tightened around the lava gun.

 

“...unbelievable. We came to survey the area, then report the evidence to the Hero’s Coalition, not to raid some weapons mogul.”

 

“Oh, relax. He won’t miss a few cars in jail.” This was the spiny hero, and Flug flinched back into the shadows when he saw the hero’s shoes materialize at the bottom of the stairs. “Or this mansion.”

 

“You  _ do  _ know it’s haunted, right?” A third voice asked, younger and tentative sounding. If Flug had to guess, it was one of the kids who always tried to sneak in on a dare or something.

 

“Pfft. If you’re scared, then buzz off. Besides, Cap’n Pain-in-the-Ass here scared those ghosts off with that thing of his.”

 

“Don’t call me that.” Alan whimpered quietly as a second set of shoes appeared. An oblong device was twirled in a gloved hand, and even from up where he was crouching, Flug could feel the push of the device. His wrist burned and he instinctively backed further into the shadows, a strong sense of panic enveloping him. He blinked in surprise as the feeling ebbed, pushing up his glove to examine the scar on his wrist. It was so red it was almost black.

 

There was a loud laugh, its echoes banging off the walls. “Oh, please.”

 

“Let’s just get this over with. The stories about this guy are enough to deal with; I’d much rather not meet the real deal should he decide to come back from that conference in Frankfurt early.”

 

Flug glanced at the stairs then back to his scar. He could try summoning Black Hat again, like that time in the lab. Scrunching his eyes shut, his fingers hovered over the scar, his nails tickling the skin, but he pulled them away with an angry huff as he heard someone tromp up the stairs. There was a crash and more laughter. His eyes narrowed; he could do this by himself. He just had to fight these guys off, right? No big deal, and this time he was the one with surprise on his side.

 

Another crash, and footsteps, presumably the kid's. Flug knew he should be scared, especially after his previous experience with the spiked hero, but his fear was outweighed by an odd rage. This guy had beaten him to a pulp, turned him over to a corrupt prison to get further manhandled, then had the gall to come into Black Hat’s (and by extension, his) home and break stuff. Flug swallowed to wet his throat as he pulled down his bag, fiddling with the straps on his goggles before checking the safety on the lava gun.

 

Alan’s presence pushed against his side, and Flug frowned. He’d seen what the spirits did to unfortunate souls that trespassed (it had kept him awake for several nights, much to Black Hat’s amusement), but whatever the second hero was carrying made the spirit twitchy and nervous. Flug hoped Alan was still up for a fight, but that meant splitting the two heroes up.

 

He glanced around the corner and nearly yelped; the spiny hero was almost on top of him, shadows distorting his face as he reached the top of the stairs. There was a gentle  _ shrik _ of metal on metal as he walked, and Flug’s anger paled as he saw the reflection of claws in the low lighting of the hall.

 

Flug pointed at the hero and made a slashing movement across his neck, hoping Alan understood. As much as he’d like to repay this jackass, he needed to go after the hero who had the weapon to stop Black Hat’s spirits. Who knew what kind of power that thing held.

 

The beast growled, stopping the first hero in his tracks. “Oi, angel boy, I think there’s an--”

 

Alan let loose a demonic screech and vaulted forward, the hero barely having time to raise giant clawed gauntlets before getting tackled to the ground, a large arc-shaped wound appearing in his shoulder. There was a shout--either from the guy getting mauled or his backup, Flug didn’t know--and Flug rolled out from behind his corner and shot blindly, the gun in his hands heating up as a jet of lava shot down the hall.

 

“Fuck!” The second hero jumped out of the way, the orange glow illuminating a man in what seemed to be some parody of a cassock. Flug didn’t have time to wonder about the hero’s costume before he re-aimed and fired, melting a hole clear through the wall and into the foyer below.

 

“I thought you said the place was empty!” he screamed, dodging a third blast. Flug felt alarm tingle down his spine as the man twirled some sort of staff, and heard Alan cry out behind him.

 

“That’s what the big shots told me!” The first hero’s voice sounded fuzzy in Flug’s ears, his brain focusing on the staff as it was hurled towards him. He jumped out of the way, only to be slammed into the staircase by a blast of energy radiating from the staff. His skin burned as his vision blurred, and a scream of agony sounded like a distant wail as Alan felt the effects of the blast. 

 

“Heh,” the man chortled and wiped at his nose, before squawking as he tried to put out a fire on the hem of his cassock. Flug used the distraction to haul himself up on the railing, wearily checking the canister on the lava gun. Two shots left.

 

“Fuckin...argh, nevermind!” The hero, giving up on his cassock and shedding it instead, yanked the staff out from where it had embedded itself in the stairs. He narrowed his eyes at Flug, who had the lava gun leveled at him.

 

“C’mon now, kid. We can get you out from this demon’s thumb. We can save you.”

 

“‘Doubt that,” the spiny hero grunted, appearing at the top of the stairs. He was disheveled, bleeding heavily, and Alan was nowhere to be felt. “He’s the bastard’s top weapon tech. He’s been in the business for awhile.”

 

“No thanks to people like you” Flug muttered, his voice barely a whisper. Something warm was dribbling from the corner of his mouth, but he dared not wipe it away. His finger was shuddering on the trigger.

 

“Ah, I see. Men like that don’t tend to want to change,” the hero with the staff said, his voice condescending and ponderous, cocking his head to the side like he was an odd-looking insect in need of pitying. Flug snarled under the bag; what did this asshole know about him? 

 

The man sprang forward, staff baring down on Flug like a javelin. “Oh, well.”

 

Flug could feel the repulsion radiating from the staff, yet he stood his ground, his wrist burning and his body shaking. Using the barrel of the lava gun, he swatted away the staff and drove a palm-strike into the hero’s gut, surprising them both. The man made a satisfying  _ oomph _ and Flug spun the the gun to slam him in the back of the head with its butt. 

 

It was like mind and body were separate, Flug watching detached and in slow motion, as though he were in a dream. His body turned, his legs bent, and then his free hand reached into his lab coat, withdrawing the memory wipe ray. He shot both weapons simultaneously at the heroes attacking from either side, the ray beam catching the cassock man squarely in the chest. The spined hero was less lucky, and, with a hint of sick satisfaction, Flug watched the lava consume its target like a pack of ravenous wolves. The body was a charred, unrecognizable lump before it hit the floor.

 

Time sped up and he spun the guns and stood. Then the smell of burning flesh hit him and he lost his cool, turning to the side and retching, grasping the railing for support. He moaned in despair; what had he done?

 

“Science nerd?” Flug spun madly, hands fumbling for the trigger on whatever weapon would respond. Now that the hero who’d fucked him over was dead, all-consuming fear swept over him, hardy abating when he saw Dementia at the top of the stairs. He hiccuped, then sobbed, breaking down like a child. Destruction was littered about him, effortless madness made by a man who labored to create mathematical solutions. He had stopped the intruders, yes, and stood up to them like a true villain would, but what had he sacrificed in turn? He went looking for the image of Valerie, burning in his mind, disappointment, horror, hunger, congratulations. His world was spinning out of control as he stumbled up the stairs, drunk on horror and adrenaline, before collapsing in front of Dementia. He didn’t even hear her shout of surprise over the cacophonous symphony in his mind.

  
What had he  _ done _ ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank y'all for the support, and I've been hit by a bought of inspiration. I'll try my best to keep up regularly!!
> 
> (read: """"""""""regularly"""""""""""")


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EYYYYYYY I'm back!! Tbh all y'all are so nice ashggcivydebovho I love you!!
> 
> So here's a much anticipated update! Here we shift into ~~romance~~
> 
> Also this chapter is dedicated to the Villainous cosplayer at this year's Ohayocon! Nice job guys!

Black Hat stretched like a cat, a rare grin on his lips as he wrung out his limbs. The villain conference had been a huge success, so much so that he’d left early and allowed several automatons to wrap up sales on the last day so he could warp home and enjoy the end of the weekend. His grin deepened and turned mischievous. Why not surprise the dear doctor with his early arrival? After all, his inventions had raked in nearly three billion in sales in two days. It had to be a new record.

 

Well, no need to stall anymore. He had transported himself right onto the front porch, and, after stooping to pick up his decorational briefcase, he turned the doorknob with flourish. “Oh, Flug~! I’m--”

 

The stench hit him immediately, so overpowering that several tentacles burst from his person before he reigned himself back. Was that…?

 

Black Hat’s train of thought derailed completely after a few steps into the foyer, his briefcase dropping to the ground with a dull  _ thud _ . He could only gawk at the scene before him--thousands of dollars in beautiful ornamentation, completely missing in a gaping, charred hole in the wall. Similar patches littered carpets and the stairwell itself, some still smoldering. Where something wasn’t burnt to a crisp, there was a disturbing amount of blood, a clear path where a body had been dragged. A trash bag lay discarded at the base of the stairs, some sort of blackened and burnt material leaking out of it. 

 

“Hey, 5.0.5, did you find another mop yet?” Dementia flitted down the stairs, careful to avoid the scorch marks, when her eyes landed on Black Hat. She smiled and popped out a pink cat earbud. “Oh, hi! You’re home early!”

 

“Dementia. You have .02 seconds to explain what the hell you’ve done. If you threw  _ another _ house party, I swear on my predecessors I will flay you alive before tossing your barely breathing body into the Void.” Black Hat hissed, rage banishing his surprise. Gods, this was the  _ last straw _ \--

 

“Whoa, calm down. It was a couple’a heroes. Flug took ‘em out before they could do any damage.” She paused and looked around, before chuckling sheepishly. “Well,  _ anymore  _ damage. You should see the security footage.” 

 

“Flug did this?” The surprise was back. 

 

“Yup. Last time I saw him, he was in the lab lookin’ at that thing that scared off all the spirits.”

 

“Wait, scared off the what?” Dementia just shrugged, reaching down to pick up the questionable trash bag. She slung it over her shoulder with ease.

 

“I dunno, me an’ 5.0.5 were watchin’ a movie. Missed the whole show.” Dementia slipped past him, but cast him a backwards glance. She was uncharacteristically serious. “Don’t yell at him, ‘kay? He’s pretty shaken up over the whole thing.”

 

And with that she turned on her heel and skipped off to the incinerator to dispose of...whatever was in that bag. "Oh I almost forgot!"

 

She turned around with a sickening smile. "We finally got to use the dungeon. Might want to check that out after talking to the nerd."

 

Black Hat sighed and massaged his temples. The promise of torturing a prisoner was appealing, but his first order of business, now that his plan to relax had been blown to pieces, was to talk to Flug about the security breach. He cast another glance around the carnage, and allowed a bit of pride to seep past his annoyance. The destruction was wonderful, even if it cost him something in the upper six digits. 

 

Black Hat picked his way up the stairs, carefully examining the damage. Upon closer inspection, imperceivable to the human eye, he found trace amounts of what appeared to be holy energy. It had dissipated enough that it barely made Black Hat blink, but the fact there was still a small amount remaining meant whatever had caused it was a powerful artifact indeed.

 

Once he’d made it to the top of the stairs, and down the hall, he began to see his spirits, swirling in the shadows, shamefully avoiding him and pitifully falling instep behind him, awaiting punishment. He fully intended to do so later. Spirits who failed their patron eldritch would…

 

He was surprised a second time that day when he came to Flug’s lab. Yacnoujh'vher, one of the biggest spirits in the house and who had taken a special liking to Flug, was curled outside the lab door, slumbering peacefully. Black Hat watched the steady rise and fall of his slimy black flank before prodding him with his cane. All twenty or so of the beast’s eyes snapped open and focused on Black Hat, tendrils and fur (at least, Black Hat  _ supposed  _ that’s what that could be) rising in aggression before recognizing his master. The spirit whimpered and moved aside, back legs wobbling as he collapsed. Black Hat managed to catch a glance of grimy gauze as Yacnoujh'vher rolled over and out of the way. Flug could see where his wound was?

 

Curiouser and curiouser.

 

Black Hat rapped on the door with the head of his cane, pushing through when there was no answer. Flug was asleep at the lab table, bag halfway on his head and face nestled in his arms. Black Hat crept forward, wondering how the scientist could look so...peaceful. It was honestly adorable, in a pitiable, inferior species kind of way. The eldritch brushed a few stray strands of hair out of the way, examining a fresh cut across Flug’s temple. Black Hat ran his thumb over the inflamed skin somewhat possessively, the wound knitting itself together in the wake of his touch. It was then when Black Hat glanced down.

 

A strangled, gurgly hiss ripped its way from the eldritch as tentacles burst from his back, his hands scrabbling over is face to stop the instinctive reaction before his true form destroyed half of the mansion. His chest heaved as he made a monumental effort to calm himself, tentacles poised defensively as he inched towards the device at Flug’s elbow. It was one of the  _ sanctus ferula _ , a rare ancient weapon used to hunt his kind during the olden times. Even looking at the holy staff made Black Hat’s skin crawl.

 

Strangely enough, the damned thing wasn’t radiating energy. Black Hat cautiously poked it with a tentacle. Nothing. No burning, no charred flesh, not even a static shock. He forced himself back into his small form, hesitantly picking up the ferula. It was weighty, its holly wood core peeking through golden engravings. It was ancient, that much as certain. 

 

Black Hat glanced down at Flug, the scientist slumbering peacefully, oblivious to his presence. The scars on his wrist were uncovered and tinged a deep red, and the eldritch could hear his heartbeat under the quiet hum of the lab’s machinery. The ferula had obviously came into contact with him in some form, agitating their bond and attempting to repel the demonic magic. 

 

Flug was still fast asleep, and Black Hat debated whether or not to leave the staff. Flug had somehow nullified the device, an amazing feat Black Hat himself had previously thought impossible. Ferula were deeply imbued with holy energy, and for someone who was contracted to a high level demon to be able to touch it, much less nullify it, was still hard for him to wrap his head around.

 

On the other hand, it was dangerous and the scientist was smart. If the ferula hadn’t been fully drained, Flug could get antsy and turn it on Black Hat, which was an undesirable situation for each of them. Black Hat liked his little doctor, and didn’t want to be rid of him just yet. 

 

There was a soft noise and a dull smacking of lips, a movement at Black Hat’s elbow pulling him from his internal debate. Flug blinked sleepily at the eldritch, his groggy brain taking a second to process just who was next to him. Then the gears began to turn and Flug practically screeched, falling back out of his chair!

 

“B-boss! I’msosorrypleasedon’tkillmetherewere--”

 

“Shut up,” Black Hat growled, though he made a point to be less aggressive than usual. “Dementia told me. Though you did cost me quite the pretty penny, I’m sure I can easily pay off the damages with your paycheck.”

 

“Oh, thank God. I thought I was going to die.” Flug slumped back onto the floor, face up and arm draped across his face. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, then Black Hat swallowed awkwardly. He maneuvered Flug’s swivel chair so he was sitting cross-legged in it, staring down at the scientist laying on the floor.

 

“Um...So this is weird, huh?” Flug was peeking at the eldritch from around his arm, still blocking most of his face. His eyes were free from their usual goggles, and they were dim. Black Hat could feel something dark across their bond and poked gingerly at it. Flug grunted and moved his arm back over his eyes. “Okay, that’s weirder.”

 

“Flug,” Black Hat’s voice was even softer, surprising both himself and the scientist. “What really happened?”

 

“What do you mean? Dem told you, right? You saw the damage.” Flug rolled over, anger and frustration covering the dark patch of the bond. It was then Black Hat recognized it as fear.

 

“Flug…”

 

He sighed and sat up, back to the demon. Black Hat decided to let the insult slip and prodded at their connection again. Flug sent him an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Stop it.”

 

Black Hat raised an eyebrow. Flug reddened and looked away, voice shaky as he replied. “I’ve, just, never felt that cold before. Sure, I’ve been in life or death situations, but it felt like my humanity just shut down. I was merely analyzing the best way to kill, like some fucking mad dog. But, like, a smart mad dog. I don’t know. I’ve never wanted to cause harm before, and it’s like I wanted to keep going. Just…”

 

He sighed and looked over his shoulder. “Is this because of our contract?”

 

Black Hat blinked, overcome by the need to get up and drag Flug to his room, to assure the scientist that no, this was good, this was supposed to happen, to not be afraid by the change. Yes, it was inevitable that the human in a bond would eventually lose their grip on their humanity, becoming eternally bound to their contracted demon. And, in cases with eldritches, it often meant the human would slip into demonhood, often ending with a mating bond instead of a servitude one. Black Hat never intended to let it get that  _ far _ , of course, being ever the bachelor, but he did intend to corrupt Flug’s soul. But now that it was beginning to happen, a small part of him was horrified at his little scientist’s distress.

 

Flug noticed his pause and scowled. “You know what, I don’t want to know. I’m going to bed. Is it alright if I keep working on it tomorrow?”

 

He pointed at the staff still clutched in Black Hat’s claws. The eldritch started before handing it over. “Of course. I have some information on those kinds of ancient weapons, if it will help you. I’ll leave it in the lab.”

 

They briefly made eye contact and Black Hat noticed crusted blood around the scientists nose. He instinctively went to wipe it away when Flug flinched away, his half of the bond cringing in muddled confusion. Black Hat dropped his hand with feigned indifference, prepared to leave the lab when he caught a look of desperation from Flug.

 

“Listen, doctor, when I think you’re ready, I’ll tell you more about our contract, alright? Don’t look stuff up on the internet, though. Most of it is bull, and you’ll just torture yourself with moronic falsities.”

 

Flug blinked in surprise and Black Hat couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle the scientist’s fluffy hair. “And nice job holding down the fort.”

 

He tried to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling coming from Flug as he strode from the lab. His face hardened into a scowl. Now to figure out how those heroes had found his lair under several ancient seals and layer upon layer of high tech security.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly your guys' comments have really been keeping me going and inspired! Thank you so much for being so supportive, and I'm sorry I keep forgetting to respond! I promise I'll try getting better about that ^^;


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;););););););););););););););););););););););););););););););););););););););););););););)
> 
> (tw: torture, blood, scripture)

“I swear to God and the Good Book, I will never tell you where the Coalition--gAH!”

 

“Oh please, this is getting boring,” Black Hat drawled, turning the electric prod over in his claws. He lazily glanced at the panting priest before shutting his eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of fear coming from the hero. He twirled the prod and it changed shape, becoming a cattle brand. Snapping his fingers, he held the hat-shaped insignia over the blue flames in his palm. The priest grunted in alarm and squirmed against his bonds. He began reciting something under his breath, and Black Hat’s nonchalance quickly gave way to a downright evil grin.

 

“Revelation 2:10, Father?” The priest choked in the middle of his chant, eyes widening as the glowing tip of the brand waved back and forth mere inches from his skin.

 

“‘Do not be afraid of what you are about to suffer,’” Black Hat poised the brand over the man’s stomach before moving it to hover over his shoulder. He grinned as he continued to recite the verse. “‘I tell you, the devil will put some of you in prison to test you,’” with this he quickly jabbed the brand above the priest’s heart, watching as the restraints keeping him in place buckled with his howl of pain,  “‘and you will suffer persecution for ten days. Be faithful, even to the point of death, and I will give you life as your victor’s crown.’”

 

Black Hat finished the last part over the hero’s screams, the cattle brand morphing back into his cane. He leisurely leaned on the lacquered wood and admired his handiwork. He had made the holy man suffer, that was for sure. He was covered in cuts and bruises from various torture implements, the red welt of the brand a fine addition to the blues and blacks littering the man’s tanned skin. “Now, Father, I won’t keep you here for ten days. I’ve already grown bored of you and it’s only been one. However, you have been quite faithful--”

 

He was cut off by bloody spittle weakly splattering on his jacket. He paused, summoned a handkerchief, and swiped it off purposely slow. “Shut up, demon.”

 

“Come now. You can’t have your clerical collar in that much of a twist. ‘Even the Devil can recite Scripture’?” Black Hat used the same handkerchief to feign wiping the man’s chin, leftover spit from his pitiful attack dribbling from his lips. However, rather than wipe up the spit, he slugged the man. Hard. “You were a damn fool to come here.”

 

Slowly, tentacles of shadow began to slip around the man, entwining him in their grip. He made a strangled gurgle, struggling weakly as Black Hat lifted him from the ground, the restraints holding him to the wall breaking like fishing twine. The priest stopped gurgling as true horror took hold, and he could only close his eyes against the beaked, squid-like monstrosity taking form in front of him. He could feel the burning of a thousand angry eyes on him, the stench of rank breath washing over him as the  _ thing  _ brought him close.

 

He refused to look.

 

“You entered my abode, destroyed my property, and endangered my favorite pet. How dare you, you small and petulant meatbag?” The last words came out as a demonic hiss and a blast of foul air. The priest would have hurled, had he anything in his stomach. He began to pray as the demon’s grip tightened. “However, I forget my manners. Petulant human or no, the hero deserves his crown.”

 

And with that, Father Matthias García, the head priest for the Central American branch of the Hero’s Coalition for six years, had his head bitten clean off.

* * *

Black Hat sighed and stretched across his king-sized bed, business documents scattered about him. The New York lab of Black Hat, Inc. was requesting stronger concealment seals that he would need to oversee the casting of, but they conflicted with a harvest of rare reflective crystals in Guatemala, needed in several types of death rays Flug was in the process of prototyping. He had wanted to take his little doctor out for some fresh air after the whole hero debacle yesterday, but Flug was still understandably rattled. He should be annoyed with yet  _ another  _ emotional breakdown (the doctor was quite prone to those), but he couldn’t bring himself to be more than slightly peeved. 

 

He groaned and rolled over, pressing his palms to his eyes as the image of the slight human seared across his vision. Flug had tripped him up, confused him, taken his big bad facade and applied a baseball bat to it. Other engineers he had employed in the past would have been fired for a sliver of the mistakes Flug had made in his first week. He had expected perfectionism of the utmost degree from day one, in both professionalism and person, and had fired or killed the unfortunate soul unable of upholding his standards.

 

The second he had lain eyes on Flug, he knew this human was different. Black Hat felt as though he  _ had  _ to force a bond onto the scientist in order to keep him sane and under his thumb. He had thought he had detected...something that suggested the doctor had come into contact with the paranormal before. After thirty seconds at Black Hat manor, however, the eldritch realized he had been _clearly_ mistaken. If Flug had come into contact with the supernatural, it had to have been unconsciously due to his line of work. Yet, there had been a certain draw to him, and Black Hat was wondering if that mistaken connection had something to do with it.

 

There was a knock at his door. Black Hat quickly sat up and adjusted his vest. “Come in.”   
  


 

Flug pushed his head through the door, paper bag and goggles in place. “I’m turning in for the night, sir. Do you need anything?”

 

He was about to say no, he was fine, and send Flug off, when an idea struck. He had been losing his footing around the dear doctor lately, and their game of cat and mouse had certainly been interrupted by the break-in. Black Hat figured it was high time to make Flug anxious of him again, though in a way the demon may regret. Or enjoy immensely.

 

He motioned for the scientist to come closer. “I have a few ideas for the new ‘Annihilator’ weapon line but I can’t decide which to choose. Would you mind gracing me with your input, dear doctor?”

 

Flug flinched and cleared his throat awkwardly before stepping all the way inside Black Hat’s room. “Are you sure you want my opinion, sir?”

 

“Yes, you imbecile. Otherwise I wouldn’t be asking.” Black Hat cast a sideways glance at the scientist. Currently, the demon had his shoulder to Flug and his head down, pretending to read the documents spread out on his bed. He was still sitting cross-legged, the comforter ballooning around him, his head cushioned in his hands. He waited until Flug hesitantly came to the edge of the bed, trembling slightly as he craned his neck to peer at the documents. Then, he struck.

 

“Ack--!” Tentacles wrapped around the doctor’s knees and chest as Black Hat flipped over to face the doctor, leaning back on his hands as Flug clumsily caught himself from falling into his boss’s lap, paper bag mere centimeters from Black Hat’s face. The eldritch grinned as innocently as possible (though it still looked demonic as hell) as Flug started spluttering incoherent nonsense. He tried to back up but the tentacles held him firmly in place. 

 

“S-s-sir?” Black Hat could practically hear his pounding heartbeat, and shut their connection when Flug reached for answers.  _ Rookie mistake _ , Black Hat thought impishly, as Flug reeled when their bond shut with him still in it. 

 

“My goodness, doctor. Are you alright? Feeling a bit ill?”

 

“No, s-sir! I’m alright, I j-just tripped, that’s all. So sorry about that! N-n-now, I’ll get going,” he said quickly, pushing back against the tentacles holding him captive. Black Hat clucked disapprovingly.

 

“No, I think you may have overworked yourself again, doctor. Let me check your temperature.” With ill-concealed glee he roughly pushed up the bag and goggles covering his prey’s face, the back of his palm pressing against his forehead. At the same time, his other hand snuck down to barely hover on Flug’s waist, and Black Hat relished the thrill that shot through him at Flug’s soft gasp. “My, you’re burning up. I guess I’ll have to cancel your scheduled eldritch self-defense lesson.”

 

“My sch-scheduled what?” Flug sounded extremely distracted. Good, this was working even better than Black Hat had hoped. “Boss, no offense, b-but that sounds fake.”

 

“It’s not fake!” Black Hat growled, demonic voice reverberating against the walls. Flug blinked at him in surprise, and the eldritch composed himself. After all, fear was not his purpose in today’s plan. At least, not his usual brand of fear. “You see, we haven’t been seeing very much of each other recently, and I thought what better way for us to bond than me torturing you, and you trying to escape? Sounds fun, yes?”

 

“N-not really.” Flug’s face was a deep crimson by this point, and he was purposely avoiding making eye-contact. Black Hat frowned and grabbed his chin, not too gently, and forced him to look back. “I don’t really want any more scars, boss.”

 

“Who said that I’m physically torturing you?” Flug stared at him, mouth agape. Black Hat shrugged, but internally he was cackling like a middle school girl. This was too easy. “Yet, at least. Anyway, I’m not letting go until I see fit; the point is for you to escape after all. Why not put that big brain to wor--”

 

The scientist, in the middle of Black Hat’s monologue, had narrowed his eyes in thought, turned a deep shade of puce as he seemingly reached a conclusion, and dropped forward.

 

_ And pressed a solid kiss right on Black Hat’s mouth _ .

 

For the first time in millenia, Black Hat’s mind was clear of its constant scheming. Instead, all he could focus on was the soft brush of Flug’s hair against his cheek, the brief touch of his hand as it overlapped the demon’s to keep his balance, and the press of supple human lips against the tough hide of an eldritch. With his concentration gone, his hold on Flug relaxed, and his muddled brain barely registered the human easily slipping free, the loud bang of a door shutting behind him awakening Black Hat from his stupor. 

 

He wanted to yell, to chase down Flug and punish him for touching an ancient eldritch without permission, especially in such a presumptuous way, get him on the ground and--

 

Black Hat hissed and dragged his palms down his face. He didn’t know whether he should be scolding himself, or laughing hysterically at Flug's brillliant escape plan. Whether or not the human actually had feelings for him (which Black Hat suspected he did), Flug had made quite the daring move. However, if Black Hat was right, it was also a foolish move. And use that foolishness, Black Hat would.

 

Yet a microscopic part of him felt bad when he tapped into their connection and felt the red hot embarrassment thrumming through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh you guys have been so nice! Thank you so much for staying tuned for so long, and don't worry, we're still truckin'! I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit disjointed (I'm not the best at first kisses, especially in cases like these two), but I've got a lot planned, so please stick around.
> 
> Comments are my caffeine, so please slap one below!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter because finals season bitches. End me TT^TT
> 
> But we're getting into shippy territory, batton the hatches and get ready for some stormy winds, this is gonna be a hell of a ride

A day went by. Then two. Then a week passed and Flug was left a confused, jittery mess. When he had initially fled from Black Hat’s room, he had flung himself into the lab and triple locked the blast-proof titanium doors, though he knew it was tissue paper in comparison to the black magic of an eldritch demon. He had expected to get tortured, mauled, thrown out on the street missing a limb and delirious with pain. When no demonic wrath rained down upon him after the first couple of hours, Flug’s anxiety had rocketed to new levels as his confusion grew. Where was Black Hat? 

 

He couldn’t sleep the first night, tossing and turning in his bed and scratching his wrist like a madman. He figured their bond or whatever was still on lockdown, as all he could feel from the eldritch was a cold, blank wall. Oh fuck, how badly had Flug pissed him off? The thought made him scratch his wrist harder.

 

After a sleepless night, Flug had opted to just eat the toaster strudel he had stashed in his bedroom rather than chance a run-in with Black Hat in the kitchen. He had snuck down to the lab before the sun had even fully rose, a toaster strudel clasped in his teeth and a tiny switchblade in hand. The tiny weapon hurt to hold; he had been able to harness traces of the energy from that priest-hero’s staff, hardly enough for a three inch blade, and had stowed the weapon away as a last resort. The weight of the thing made his mind reel with guilt, and using it against Black Hat, even in self-defense, felt so inherently wrong that it had been a physical battle to not just through the thing away right after he made it. 

 

Only once he was sheltered behind the thick doors had Flug been able to relax. He deprived himself of food (again, he was nowhere near ready to face his boss) and worked from the wee hours of that first morning into the next. 

 

A snuffling at the door had made him nearly scream, but it was just Alan. Without his bond, Flug couldn’t even see the outline of the beast, but his terrifying presence provided an odd sense of comfort. He worked like that the next few days, Flug using the small washroom in the lab and surviving off of whatever snacks he had stored away in the nooks and crannies of the lab, which mostly consisted of a few bottles of  _ pelonazo  _ candies and granola bars. It was at the end of the sixth day that Flug groggily pulled himself awake from an impromptu nap, his eyes blinking sluggishly as they adjusted to the dim lighting. He felt like shit, and the churning in his stomach contrasted the bone-deep ache in his limbs. He groaned and squinted accusingly at the ceiling, wondering if one of the lab lights go out. It was usually way brighter…

 

The thing he was laying on shifted, and with sleep-addled realization, Flug saw  _ it _ . Greenish-black, slimy fur, thick tendrils slumped about on the floor around him. One rested protectively over his waist, and Flug watched several slits of red light open as he gingerly rested his hand on the thing’s flank. It was Alan, his exhausted brain supplied, but Flug had never really seen him. The lab lights shimmering over his mass made him appear in a ghostly light, and that soft green halo made Flug realize that the initial dimness he had perceived was only concentrated on him.

 

Flug slowly turned his head, and was so tired he didn’t even start when he locked eyes with Black Hat. The eldritch didn’t  _ look  _ angry, but after millenia of tricking people into selling their souls, Flug wouldn’t be surprised if his poker face was good. Their connection was open again, however, and Flug gently eased himself back into it, not sensing any malice.

 

The eldritch shifted above him and dropped into a crouch. “How many times are we going to talk about you overworking yourself until you actually listen?”

 

Flug winced as the demon reached for him, his mind recoiling. Here it comes, he thought, bracing himself for pain worse than death. He’s going to kill me.

 

Black Hat huffed in annoyance, but stopped reaching for him. He sat back with a soft  _ oof _ , the two eyeing each other warily. Flug struggled as he pushed himself into a sitting position, his hands fumbling to pull down his paper bag and make a break for the door, which now stood wide open. There was an invisible pressure on his wrist.  _ Don’t. We need to talk. _

 

The doctor cast a startled look at Black Hat, but the demon just sent a snarky smirk back. Flug hissed in pain as he settled back onto the floor, his back aching in protest. “Fine. What do you want?”

 

“I’d like for you to attend a regional meeting with me,” Black Hat stated, his claws drumming absentmindedly across the floor. He still had a crooked smile on his face, but it seemed softer than before. “In Guatemala. A friend of mine is harvesting the ionized crystals you needed for our next order of rays. I think some time out of the house will do you good.”

 

The idea of going somewhere new, somewhere that wasn’t the confines of this mansion or the city around it, excited Flug. However…

 

“Are all four of us going?”

 

“All four? No, just you and I. Dementia often scares customers off, and 5.0.5 is too clumsy for the delicate work we will be doing.”  _ Just you and I _ . Fuck.

 

“Sure,” he said, cursing himself for not being able to keep the shudder out of his voice. Black Hat didn’t seem to notice though, and he stood, casually brushing off the invisible dirt from coat. He offered a hand out to Flug. “Then we’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow. I need you rested up, dear doctor, and the floor isn’t the best place for that.”

 

Flug cautiously took the hand, only to be yanked up so fast his tired mind spun in attempt to keep up. An arm looped around his waist and he was pressed flush against Black Hat. He was still asleep. It was the only logical explanation. That or he was about to get an organ viciously ripped out of his body.

 

They were so close, Flug could feel the breeze of the eldritch’s breath against his bag as the demon whispered, “It’s nice to see you so...intimidated again, dear doctor.”

 

Claws squeezed his wrist once and he was suddenly alone, the only remnants of Black Hat’s presence a few black wisps of smoke and the flush on Flug’s cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! It blows my mind all the attention this story has gotten, and as a thank you, I think I may hold a contest of sorts? Idk yet.
> 
> As always, please leave a comment! They brighten my day and motivate me so much!


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